


Information as Currency

by Cantique



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Completed, Consensual Sex, F/M, Forced Pregnancy, Forced pregnancy (mentioned but not strictly depicted), Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Intrigue, Long winded as hell, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, Mutual Pining, OC is not force sensitive or anything, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Prequels, Protagonist is a sex worker, Slow Burn, also child murder because younglings, brothels are canon in starwars i have the receipts, grief but in space, not really non-con but there's one scene where mind control is a possibility, there's sex in it now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 69,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22032313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantique/pseuds/Cantique
Summary: “I’m under orders to turn you in for your crimes against the Republic,” she warns him, blaster in her hand, aimed and ready. She tries to look strong. She tries her best to hide the fact she’s trembling, that her eyes are watering, that her chest hurts. She can’t let him win. She’d been warned about this. She’s the best of the Agents, and he the best of the remaining Jedi order. She has to play her part.“But you won’t,” he replies, unmoving, everything she wants to be in that moment. Calm, collected, confident in his actions. For all her skills, she isn’t a threat to him at all unless she plans on trying to gun him down. He knows it, she knows it.“Why?” She asks. “Why is this happening? It isn’t meant to be like this.”“None of what you’ve been told is true,” he says. “You know this.”----The Jedi thought they were only bringing back Anakin from Tatooine. Turns out they forgot to check for stowaways. But when Keeasi finds work as a Republic Intelligence agent, she finds herself unable to escape a Jedi's kindness.Takes place over all the prequels, incl the Clone Wars. Obi-Wan/female OC. Non force sensitive OC. Female OC was a sex worker. Slow burning.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 212





	1. Determination

**Author's Note:**

> CN for sex work, although the sex worker in this story is consenting and not trafficked so you don't have to conflate the two (which you shouldn't be doing anyway but W H A T E V E R)  
> \--  
> This is a long, looong slow burn that I had hosted on the 'other' fanfiction website. Decided to do some reworking and try and repost it. I promise ya boi obi-wan arrives in the next chapter and things really start kicking off but anyway here it is.

Keeasi leans against the Cantina wall, dabbing her wrist against her brow to try and blot out at least a little bit of the sweat that’s gathering. One might think that she might be used to the Tatooine heat after all this time, but evidently, she’s yet to acclimatise. She’s unsure if she ever will. 

She glances over the clientele, disappointed with the day’s turnout. Yesterday had been a good one -- six clients, only four of them wanting the full range of her services. One only wanted a massage, and the other really just wanted to talk. She’d left with a handful of truguts that night, which was enough for her to stock up on food for the week and still have enough left over to contribute to her savings. 

Today, though, the Cantina is not promising. It’s hot and everyone is focused on the upcoming pod-race, which is looking to be a bit of a spectacle. She can at least rely on business to be good after the race. But today? She’s leaning more and more towards throwing in the towel and going home. At least the very small, one room dwelling she rents is somewhat cooler than the Cantina is.

“Did you hear what Shoska saw today?” A high pitched wheeze begins from beside her. She shoots Nanka a glance. The Mirialan sips on a drink, her eyes fixed on the small number of customers in the Cantina, sizing them up just as Keeasi is. 

“Shoska sees a lot of things,” Keeasi replies. “Including half my regulars behind my back.” She pauses, giving a sigh and closing her eyes. No point getting mad over _that_ again. “What did Shoska see, then?” 

Nanka can’t help but smile a little. “Outlanders,” she begins, failing miserably at hiding her excitement. “Humans. Trying to buy parts for their ship from Watto.” Keeasi gives a shrug as Nanka continued. This doesn’t sound as salacious as she’s trying to make it out to be. “‘Ey, don’t you go shrugging at me, girl,” Nanka laughs. “I haven’t even gotten to the good part. So, get this, right? One of them tries to pay for whatever it is they need with _Republic Credits._ ”

Keeasi snorts. No one on Tatooine accepts Republic Credits. They’re practically worthless. “That sounds like an Outlander, alright. How’d that go down with Watto?”

“How do you _think_ it went? They walked out of there with nothing.” Nanka pauses. “You know, those Outlanders… don’t know where they’re going, but I bet it’s not the Outer Rim.” Keeasi looks to her, frowning, unsure where she’s going with this. “You’ve got a lot of peggats and truguts saved up. Given their lack of currency, I bet they’d be grateful if you made a donation. Grateful enough to say… take you with them.”

Her eyes thin at Nanka as she finishes. Keeasi might be young, but she’s not stupid -- you can’t be in their business. She knows what Nanka is trying to do. If Keeasi leaves, Nanka becomes the only humanoid girl working in this Cantina, which means Nanka will inherit all of Keeasi’s regulars. That being said, it’s not something Keeasi can exactly fault her on. Keeasi would probably do the same thing, and Keeasi has never really hidden the fact she wants to get off planet, either.

Getting off planet is easier said than done, though. Passage from the Outer Rim is expensive, especially if you’re like Keeasi and not someone who can work for their keep. She’s good with a blaster and can talk her way out of a Rancor pit, but other than that? She’s not exactly an engineer or a pilot. Even her trade was obsolete out there -- most ports have some kind of brothel, and Keeasi isn’t much to write home about. The only reason she does such a good trade on Tatooine is because she’s the only human girl in the Cantina, and that can change at any time depending on what ships drift in. 

The two share a brief silence, Keeasi thinking this over. “Right,” she exhales, pushing herself off the wall. “I’m taking the rest of the day off. Too hot in here to stand around and watch people not book me.” She gives Nanka a nod. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Eh, good luck,” Nanka laughs, “you’re gonna need it.”

Giving the barman a quick nod of acknowledgement to let him know she’s off shift, Keeasi casually strolls out of the Canteena. It’s not until she’s outside and well out of Nanka’s sight that she breaks into a sprint. Watto’s. She has to get to Watto’s and ask where those Outlanders are. Nanka, for all her alterior motives, is right -- Keeasi has a healthy chunk of savings, and while it’s not enough to buy her a spot on a smuggler’s ship just yet, it could be much more valuable for someone who is stuck on Tatooine with absolutely nothing. 

By the time she stumbles into Watto’s, she’s out of breath and her makeup is sweating. The Outlanders are nowhere to be seen inside the junk shop, but the Toydarian is still there, floating about behind the counter and cleaning out… something that looks like it’s been harvested from a stolen droid. He immediately smiles his big, toothy grin -- but it vanishes as soon as he realises it’s her and not the usual kind of customer he deals with. “Whadda’ you want, eh?” He asks, his attention moving back to whatever he’s cleaning out. “I told ya’, no refunds on the blaster. It was junk anyway.”

Still catching her breath, she shakes her head. “I heard you dealt with some Outlanders.” She pauses, taking a minute to collect herself. “Any idea where they went? They’re still here, right?”

He glances at her momentarily, raising an eyebrow with suspicion. “...Yeh, but they ain’t got any money for you, girl. Only _credits._ Pah!” He clicks his tongue, visibly still irritated at the thought. 

“That’s fine!” She insists. “I just need to talk to them. Please, Watto?” She purses her lips, knowing that he’s about to try and charge her for the information. Nothing from him is free. “You still owe me four golden peggats, right?” She asks, speaking fast so he doesn’t have a change to ask her for money. “After that bet you made on that race last week?” To be honest, it’s a bet Keeasi never expected would be paid -- he’d been betting against his own slave boy in the Cantina, betting that he’d come last. Rigged, of course, the boy never had a racer that could hold up properly. But it was a scam that Keeasi had seen him pull over and over and she was quickly getting tired of him taking money from men that would otherwise be spending it on her. “Tell me where they went and we’ll call it even.”

He rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue again. “I’m not payin’ that!” He insists. “Don’t come in here and play ya’ games with me, girl. It wasn’t a real bet and ya’ know it.”

In the heat of her frustration, Keeasi had bet that the boy wouldn’t come in last. Sure enough, he didn’t. The boy’s ship didn’t even start, making him a scratch. She’d won on a technicality, something that was backed by the decision of the Hutt who oversaw the Cantina’s gambling. “I can always tell the Hutts that you’ve made it clear you don’t intend to pay me.” 

His eyes thin. Watto has never had an issue arguing with Keeasi. She’s a working girl in a Cantina, she’s nothing in the scale of things. But the Hutts? Not even Watto was willing to take that risk. “Alright, _fine!_ ” He finally relents, throwing the droid part on to the desk in frustration. “But as soon as you done talkin’ to them Outlanders, you go tell them Hutts we clear!” He points one of his fingers at her, waiting for her to nod in agreement before tilting his head to the back room. “Boy!” He barks, followed by the sound of something clanking in the back room. “Ey, _boy!_ Come ‘ere, eh?”

A young boy emerges, grease on his hands and face. “Yeah?” He asks, wiping his hands on his trousers. Keeasi recognizes the boy -- Anakin, his name is. The boy who Watto sends in to pod-races every week. Whenever she comes here for a blaster or appliance repair, it’s usually Anakin who ends up fixing it handling it or once she’s handed her money to Watto. “Oh, hi, Keekee!” he chimes, giving her a wave. Even though he’s too young to know what she does for a living, no one is exempt from using her working name, although she’s pretty sure he genuinely thinks her name is Keekee.

“You take this one to see your friends, eh?” Watto orders, gesturing to her dismissively. “She got somethin’ important for ‘em.”

Anakin glances at Keeasi, clearly curious about this, but quickly shrugs. “Sure.” He gestures for her to follow, immediately making his way out of the shop. “Come on, they’re probably still at my place.” There’s an energy to his steps, and it’s enough that Keeasi has to pick up her own pace to keep up with him. She’s not sure why they’re at Anakin’s place, but they definitely seem to have the boy excited. “So why do you need to see them?” He asks over his shoulder, leading her through the small market crowd as they pass through.

“Just have something to ask them, that’s all,” Keeasi explains. “Are they friendly?”

“Oh yeah!” He replies, smiling. “They’re really cool. Mr Qui-Gonn even got Watto to let me race again tomorrow!” He stops suddenly as they come to one of the residential areas. “There he is!” He announces, pointing to a man across the clearing. “Hey, Mr Qui-Gonn!”

The man turns and something about him immediately makes Keeasi uneasy. Her stomach drops, although she can’t really explain why. He’s physically big, but that doesn’t scare her or anything, she’s dealt with men much larger than him. But there’s something about his presence, about how he stands. He’s like a statue, almost. Anakin waves, breaking into a run to cross the gap between them. “Mr Qui-Gonn!” He calls again. “Watto told me to come find you.” He turns and gestures to Keeasi, who’s slowly making her own approach. “This is Keekee. She works at the Cantina. She wanted to talk to you about something.”

Qui-Gonn is silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on her. She’s used to people staring, and given that she’s still dressed for work, she can’t blame him for trying to get a read on her. Anakin might think she ‘works’ at the Canteena as a waitress or something -- he’s too young to be allowed in there, so there’s no reason for him to think otherwise -- but this Outlander wasn’t born yesterday. He already knows what she is. “Does she, now?” He asks, giving her a knowing look, despite entertaining Anakin’s naievity. 

“It’s not…” She catches herself, aware there’s a child in earshot. “I’m not here for my regular business. Please, just hear me out.”

His gaze doesn’t move from hers, and for a moment she thinks he might even be considering her a danger. But, eventually, he gives a solemn nod. “Anakin,” he says, “why don’t you head inside? Your droid has some things to talk to you about before your race tomorrow.”

The boy glances between the two, but the expression on the older man’s face is enough for him to realise this probably isn’t so much a suggestion as much as it is an order. “See ya later, Keekee,” he sighs before dutifully heading inside. Neither of the adults speak a word until the boy is well out of sight.

Qui-Gonn is the first to speak. “Let me assure you that you’re wasting your time if you’re trying to--”

“I told you,” she interrupts, “I’m not here on my regular business.” She pauses, taking a breath, as if waiting for permission to continue. “Someone told me that you need ship parts, but you only have Republic Credits.”

“I see word travels fast,” he replies with a nod.

Keeasi smiles, “like you wouldn’t believe.” She’s trying to be friendly, but she’s getting the impression that she won’t be able to win him over on charm alone. “Look, I know it won’t cover all of it, but I have 4,600 golden peggats and I can probably help you source some more. All I ask is that you take me with you when you leave.” She watches him cross his arms, but she continues. “I don’t care where you’re going or why, I just want to get out of the Outer Rim. And before you ask,” she adds, palms raised, “I can work. I’m handy with a blaster and I speak three languages. I can make myself useful.”

He smiles, and for a second she thinks he might take her up on the offer, but it comes tumbling down when he shakes his head. “A generous offer, indeed. And I thank you for it. Unfortunately, however, I’ve already come to another arrangement, and it’s not in my interest to smuggle slaves. I’m sorry, but I can’t afford to risk angering your master.”

“... _Master?_ ” She repeats, unable to hide the traces of bitterness in her voice. A common assumption, but not one that’s ever easier to hear. “I am _not_ a slave and I do _not_ have a master,” she explains, her jaw tensing. “I don’t know if you’re familiar with the Outer Rim, but here? Work is work.”

He falls silent once again, reading her reaction. She’s trying her best to conceal her distaste, although he’s not giving her much reason to continue with the niceties. “Of course,” he finally relents. “Forgive me, it’s usually the case in my part of the galaxy.” He gives a subtle nod of the head. “Regardless, however, I already have a full crew as it is.” Despite her best efforts to hide her disappointment, something in Keeasi’s expression must betray her. His expression softens a little, his tone suddenly taking more of a gentle tilt. “I assure you that I’d consider your offer if it were possible. The best I can do is offer you some Republic Credits. Perhaps you might be able to trade them with a smuggler or one of the traders that pass through.” He pauses again. “I’m sorry, I really am.”

She can tell that this is going to be the end of the discussion. She came here fully prepared to offer anything in her repertoire to convince him, even free services -- but despite his initial misgivings, something about him makes her feel this is genuine. Either he’s being honest, or he’s a very good actor. “That’s uh, fine,” she replies, exhaling a little. “I understand. I just… thought it might be worth asking.” She gives him a smile, although she can tell that he can see straight through it. “Thank you for your time. Give Anakin my best wishes for the race tomorrow.” 

With that, she turns on her heel and immediately makes her way back to the Cantina without another word. She really, for a moment, had thought she’d found her ticket out of here.

* * *

“You shoulda’ seen it,” Coshto remarks as Keeasi lays against his chest, the two sprawled over the bed as she tries to kill time before his hour is up. “I’ve never seen a race like it! That Skywalker kid just… it was incredible.” He laughs, shaking his head. “You shoulda’ put some money on it like I did. It was crazy!”

He gently begins to rise, allowing Keeasi a little space, much to her relief. Coshto is hardly a _bad_ client to have -- his bookings are usually on the shorter side, and he’s hygienic -- but he’s cocky. Coshto is all hands, and always acts as though he’s doing Keeasi a favour by hiring her. However, Keeasi is good at her work, and Coshto’s ego is easy enough to play to. “Leaving so soon?” She asks, frowning. 

Coshto swings his legs over the edge of the bed, reaching for his pants. “Sorry, love,” he explains. “Gotta finish loading that shipment before those Outlanders leave.”

“Outlanders?” She asks, an eyebrow raised. “The ones who’ve been sniffing around Watto and that kid from the race?”

“Yeah.” He reaches for his shirt, pulling it over his head. Suddenly, and for the first time ever, Keeasi is _very_ interested in what Coshto has to say. “They filled a huge order for their trip back to wherever it is they’re from. Urgent, too. Don’t think they plan on sticking around for long.”

Keeasi chews on her lip, watching him sit on the edge of the bed to put on his boots “...Coshto,” she mews, moving across the bed to sit behind him and snaking her arms over his shoulders in an embrace. “Why don’t we ever spend any time together?”

He raised an eyebrow, all but shrugging her off. “We spend plenty of time together,” he assures her. “I see you at least once a week.”

“Noooo,” she whines, pouting a little bit dramatically. “I mean _outside_ of work. I thought I was special.”

She tries her best to not hold her breath in an anticipation, but Coshto freezes and she knows she’s got him. “Y-you _are_ special, Keekee,” he said, turning to face her, his expression so soft that it can only be described as ‘melty.’ “I had no idea you felt like _that,_ though.”

“I tell you all the time that you’re special to me!” She argues, really pushing the pout this time. “I thought you knew you didn’t need to pay for my time.” Keeasi really hopes this works, because if it doesn’t, she’s out of a client. “I was starting to think you didn’t care.

“Oh, Keekee,” he said, cupping her face with his hand. “Of _course_ I care. You’re _all_ I care about.”

Keeasi smiles, looking downwards, raising her hand to meet his. “Let me walk you to your shipment?” She asks. “I want to spend as much time with you as I can.”

* * *

Part of her feels guilty for dogging Coshto like this, but Keeasi quickly reminds herself of both how awful he is in general _and_ what’s at stake here. She can always forgive herself later if she pulls this off. 

She says goodbye to Coshto at the loading dock, promising to meet him again later that night, no charge. She has, of course, zero intention of keeping this promise. If she has learned anything about Coshto today, it’s that he’s an idiot who’s no smarter than any of her other clients. 

Once he’s off to clock in, she finds a place to hide and wait, watching as they pack the boxes of supplies. Most of them are packed to the brim, but she spots one that’s filled with ration packs and has _just_ enough room for her to squeeze into. 

It takes about an hour and a half before the dock workers finish up and go inside the building for a break. Once the coast is clear, Keeasi makes a break for the half-filled crate, hoping no one spots her as she lifts the lid and jumps inside, closing it above her. In total darkness now, she reaches into her dress and draws her blaster from the inside pocket, holding it to her chest and listening to the muffled voices outside. The crate begins to shift as it’s moved, and all she can do is sit and wait in the dark.

* * *

It’s the two hour mark before she hears anything outside the crate other than muffled engine noises, and although she wants to celebrate the fact she’s made it off Tatooine, the mere sound of footsteps terrifies her too much to move. Is this a risky plan? Yes. Has Keeasi planned anything after ‘get on the Outlander’s ship at any cost?’ No. Hopefully it’s just someone retrieving some rations. 

It suddenly occurs to her that she’s sitting on top of a pile of said rations, and as though someone was waiting for that thought to occur to her, the lid of the crate opens. As Qui-Gonn and five other men with blasters at the ready stare down at her, the best thing Keeasi can think to do is smile. 

“Um… _hi_.”

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Kindness

“What exactly made you think this was a good idea?” Qui-Gonn paces back and forth in front of her, the cargo hold empty spare for Keeasi, Qui-Gonn, and a younger man who did little but observe. They’d decided that once her blaster was confiscated, she was no longer a physical threat, but Keeasi doesn’t doubt for a second that the second man is also there as a precaution. 

She waits for him to follow up, but it becomes apparent that he’s not actually speaking rhetorically. He actually wants an explanation. “I… look, if I’m to be honest? This was probably a bad idea in hindsight.  _ But, _ ” she stresses, raising her eyebrows, “I  _ did _ make it onto the ship, so  _ technically  _ speaking, it wasn’t the  _ worst _ idea.”

“No, just incredibly irresponsible. Not to mention dangerous,” Qui-Gonn continues. “There are some very important people on this ship and you’re lucky someone didn’t shoot you on sight.”

“I’m sorry,” she blurts, tensing her jaw. “I really am. Honestly. I don’t know what else to say.” While Keeasi wouldn’t exactly say Qui-Gonn was angry, judging by the silence, he’s certainly… not pleased, either. 

“Will we be dropping her at the next port, Master?” the younger man asks, speaking for the first time since he’d arrived. Master? Surely they aren’t slavers. Could they be? Her stomach tenses. Oh no. Just her luck, really, walking right in to slavery…

Qui-Gonn shakes his head. “No. We’re on a direct course and we can’t waste any more fuel or supplies. Time is not on our side, either… Tell me, Obi-Wan,” he begins, eyeing her carefully. “What do  _ you _ think?”

“What do I think?” He repeats, looking to Qui-Gonn with an eyebrow raised.

“What do you sense?” the elder of the two asks, crossing his arms. 

There’s another moment of silence, although it feels like it’s more tense between them than it is for Keeasi. “Fear. But no anger. No malice.” He exhales. “I think she’s being honest.”

Keeasi glances between the two, her eyes thinning. What is going on? “So…” Keeasi trails off Qui-Gonn shifts, something on his belt catching her eye. Oh. Oh, it all makes sense now. “Wait. You’re Jedi, aren’t you?” She doesn’t wait for a response. She doesn’t need one. A master and an apprentice, a lightsabre hanging from a belt, mind reading? It all made sense, and Keeasi feels like an idiot for not being able to guess it by the robes. “Of course you are,” she says with a heavy sigh, bringing the heel of her hand to her forehead. “First time I really hustle in years and I end up hustling  _ Jedi. _ ”

“Hustle?” the apprentice asks.

She shakes her head. “Just... lingo. Don’t worry.”

“We’ll keep her in the cargo hold,” Qui-Gonn announces, ignoring everything else she’s said. “And we’ll decide a further course of action when we arrive on Coruscant.”

* * *

Keeasi would have lost track of time by now, but luckily they seem to be changing the guards assigned to the cargo hold every two or so hours. Not that it really matters, though. All there is to do in here is sleep on the cot they’d set up for her, which, honestly, she didn’t mind. She did feel a little cold, but she was so tired that she managed to get some sleep regardless.

Eventually, though, between short naps, the guard changes again. Instead of a Trooper this time, though, the guard is taken up by the Jedi apprentice. He speaks a few quiet words to the guard, which Keeasi can’t really hear, but whatever it is seems to make the guard go away. He stands by the doorway for a moment, but once the sound of the Trooper’s footsteps fade away, he turns around to face her. “You’re awake, then,” he says, making his way to stand in front of her. He hands her a small bundle of fabric that he’s been keeping under his arm. “I brought you some clothes.”

She hesitates for a moment, but eventually obliges and takes the bundle from him. “Thank you,” she says, unfolding it to take a look. A tunic and some trousers, both made of a woolen material. “I suppose you can’t have someone on a Jedi ship dressed like…” she uses her free hand to gesture up and down herself, “well, like a working girl.”

“Actually,” he says, crossing his arms and giving her a very small smile, “I thought you might be cold. Tatooine is a warm planet, and space is quite the opposite.” He looks around. “Especially the cargo hold.”

“That’s uh…” she wants to say considerate, but she’s not willing to believe that just that. He’s still right, though. It is cold, and she is grateful for a change of clothes. Her work dress leaves not much to the imagination, and while it’s not unusual on Tatooine, knowing she’s on a Jedi ship is making her feel a bit naked. “You’re not wrong.” She pulls the tunic over her head, really just wanting to cover up a little at this stage. “Is your boss still mad at me?”

“Master Qui-Gonn wasn’t angry with you,” he explains as he watches her pull the trousers up underneath the fabric of her dress. It’s enough to preserve her modesty, but it’s an awkward practice, to say the least. “He was genuinely concerned for your wellbeing. Perhaps frustrated, too. He told me about your encounter on Tatooine.”

“Well,” she exhales, settling back onto the cot with a half hearted laugh, “If I’d know he was a Jedi, I’d have just stayed in the Cantina.”

He raises an eyebrow, taking a seat on a nearby crate. “Why is that?” He asks. “Many people would think that a benefit.”

“Because,” she explains,”you’re… Jedi. You’re all formal, with so many rules and a code and… look, I’ve never really ‘clicked’ with law enforcement.”

“But compassion is central to the Jedi way,” he rebutts. “If anything, my Master would have understood your plight more than anything.”

“Plight?” She repeats. “Not this again. I’m not a victim, I work of my own-”

“I didn’t mean to imply that,” he interrupts. “I was referring to your problems securing passage off Tatooine. Your life as a courtesan isn’t of any concern.”

“I…” a chuckle escapes before she can finish. “A Courtesan? That’s… well, it’s a nice way of putting it.” Keeasi, for the first time in a while, can’t hold back the smile on her face.

“Master Qui-Gonn says your name is Keekee?” He asks. He’s different to Qui-Gonn, something about him makes her feel able to relax for the first time since she snuck onto the ship. “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.” He pauses, “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re going to run into any trouble when we arrive on Coruscant.”

“Coruscant?” She asks. “We’re going to  _ Coruscant? _ ” She takes a second to process this. Keeasi was just happy to get out of the Outer Rim, but Coruscant is a dream. “...Wait. Trouble?”

“I’m sure you’re aware of this, but stowing away is illegal. Especially on a ship as important as this. If we were to report you at customs, you’d be in trouble, yes.”

“But…” she smirks, “you’re not going to, right?”

He shakes his head. “I know my Master to be more empathetic than that. If you behave yourself, that is.”

She eyes him for a moment, trying her best to get a read on him. He’s different to his Master, although she’s willing to chalk that up to youth more than anything. But the real difference is that he hasn’t given her  _ that _ look once. The look people always give her when they find out she’s a working girl. Even his Master, as poised as he is, gave her the look. Obi-Wan hasn’t for even a second. “...Keeasi,” she finally says. “My actual name is Keeasi Denn.”

“Keeasi,” he repeats to himself. Something about him saying her name brings a little heat to her cheeks, which takes her off guard. It must be the first time in years she’s heard someone use her real name. “Well, Keeasi, my Master says that you’re now welcome to leave the cargo hold to bathe and eat -- with supervision, of course.”

“You’re gonna supervise me while I bathe?” She asks with a laugh, unable to help herself. He’s caught off guard by this as she stands, opening his mouth to speak but unable to formulate a response. “Relax,” she assures him. “I’m just teasing you. It’ll be nice to stretch my legs.”

* * *

Carefully sitting at the table of the dining area, Keeasi eyes Anakin carefully while he speaks to one of the handmaidens. Obi-Wan had informed her earlier that the Queen of Naboo was on board, which explained all the over the top security, even for a Jedi ship. It also explained why she was only allowed out of the cargo hold after most people on board had gone to sleep. It was a blessing, really. The less people she has to explain herself to, the better. 

Eventually, Obi-Wan sits across from her, passing her a plate of heated food. She knows rations when she sees them -- they’re very commonly traded on Tatooine -- but now that she’s bathed and no longer has an underlayer of dress beneath her otherwise sensible clothing, the hot meal is the last step to making her feel a little more human after such a big day. She overhears Anakin saying goodnight to the handmaiden before leaving for bed, blanket still draped over him, too tired to even register that Keeasi is there.

“He misses his mother,” says the handmaiden, joining them at the table. She gives Keeasi a smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.”

Keeasi glances to Obi-Wan, waiting until he gives a nod of permission. “Keeasi,” she replies. “I’m uh… the little surprise they found in the cargo hold.”

“Padme,” the handmaiden replies, a genuine smile on her face. “From all the chaos you caused, I’d expected you to be a little more threatening.” Padme laughs as Keeasi digs into her meal as though she hasn’t eaten in days. She has eaten… but nothing as robust as  _ this. _ There’s meat in here!

“She insists she’s good with a blaster,” Obi-Wan says, smirking and causing Keeasi to stop shoving food in her mouth for a second. Is he… making fun of her? ...Is her face flushing? No. Definitely not. The showers were pretty warm. That’s probably it. She’d spent a while in there washing her face off. She’d been wearing the makeup of the trade -- pale foundation, purple stripes of paint across her cheekbones and down her chin -- but it hardly seems appropriate here. 

“I’m  _ very _ good with a blaster,” she insists, although she’s honestly speaking into her food at this point. “Probably a better shot than you, really.”

Obi-Wan crosses his arms and leans back. “I don’t doubt that at all.”

Padme seems thrilled by the sight of the two making fun out eachother, glancing between them with a smile. “So what’ll you do when we arrive at Coruscant?” She asks. “Seems like getting on the ship was a big risk for you.”

Keeasi shrugs, using her fork to stir her foord. “I haven’t actually thought that far ahead,” she admits. “But, assuming I don’t get arrested,” she pauses to shoot Obi-Wan a glance, “I guess I’ll find myself a job.”

“What exactly do you do?” Padme asks. “Are you a smuggler?”

“No, I’m uh…” She quickly glances to Obi-Wan, seeming a little uneasy. “I’m a-”

“A translator,” Obin-Wan cuts in. “Keeasi speaks three languages. “

“Really?” Padme is beaming now. She must find this whole thing very fascinating. “Which ones?”

It takes Keeasi a second to respond as she’s so taken aback by Obi-Wan’s rescue. “Ryl, Huttese, and Bocce.”

It’s Obi-Wan’s turn to ask a question now, an eyebrow raised. “Ryl?” He asks. “Really?”

Keeasi shrugs. “You meet lots of different people on Tatooine, including Twi’leks.” It’s a half truth. Her Ryl is conversational at best, and most of it is what she’s learned from other girls who’ve passed through the Cantina over the years. 

Padme shifts on her seat, extremely engaged with this conversation. “I’ve never met a human translator before,” she remarks. “Just droids.

Keeasi gives another glance of panic to Obi-Wan, but again, he effortlessly responds. “When it comes to negotiations, it’s hard to guarantee a droid is going to translate in good faith,” he explains, “especially depending on who the droid belongs to.”

“So being independent means your translations are accurate,” Padme follows. “I imagine you might be able to find work in the senate,” she offers.

Keeasi chuckles to herself. “Maybe. I don’t know, I’ve never been one for politics.”

Obi-Wan gives Keeasi a knowing look before the Jedi apprentice quickly changes the subject. It’s almost unnerving, really, this stranger’s kindness towards her. But Keeasi supposes a lot of things will be new and unnerving now. She’s finally off Tatooine, and everything will, or at least  _ should, _ be different.

* * *

Waiting in the cargo hold, as instructed, Keeasi can’t help but feel herself tensing up as time passes. They can’t have her getting off the ship at the same time as everyone else, god forbid she enter the Queen’s sight, and the wait is excruciating. She doesn’t even know what’s going to happen to her. 

When the two Jedi finally return to collect her though, she feels her stomach drop. This is it. 

Qui-Gonn carefully eyes her before crossing his arms, giving another of his solemn nods. “You’re free to go,” he announces. 

For a second, Keeasi’s mouth hangs open as she tries to come up with words. “Really?” she asks, completely surprised that they’re just going to let her go. “No jail? No deportation?” She’d at least expected a week in holding or something. 

“No. Although, I can arrange that for you if you’d prefer.” 

Keeasi smiles and gives a nervous laugh. “Nope! That’s all good. Um…” She rises from the cot, giving a slight nod to the Jedi Master. “Thank you. Really. This is incredibly kind of you.”

He exhales, tilting his head to Obi-Wan. “Obi-Wan will get you through customs. When you go from there is up to you.” He frowns. “Please, make the most of your new start.”

“You have my word,” she replies, trying to hide how touched she is -- the idea of fully admitting that to a Jedi Master makes her uncomfortable. “Thank you for your kindness, Master Qui-Gonn.”

* * *

“I can’t believe you’re letting me go,” Keeasi remarks as she exits the ship with the Jedi Apprentice. 

“I told you that you’d be fine,” he reminds her, leading her through the spaceport. “My Master is quite empathetic to your situation, if I’m to be honest with you,” he says. “He knew you weren’t a threat.” There’s a quiet between the two for a moment as he leads her through the immigration gate. She can hear him say a quiet “she does not need any identification. We’re free to enter,”as they arrive at the officer’s station. 

Keeasi expects the officer at the immigration gate to ask questions or push back somehow, but to her shock, he doesn’t. “She doesn’t need any identification,” the officer announces, pushing the button to open the gate. “You’re free to enter.” An eyebrow raised, she follows Obi-Wan through. Surely he bribed the officer, but she didn’t see anything like that. Had she just not been paying attention? Did they know eachother? She didn’t dare ask, however.

Eventually, they come to a stop by the entrance of the spaceport, Obi-Wan turning to face her. “The Senate Guard often takes on new recruits,” he offers. “If you’re as good with a blaster as you say you are, you’ll do well there. Speaking of which,” he pauses and bushes aside his robe, retrieving her blaster that they’d previously confiscated. “I believe this belongs to you. Hopefully you won’t need it,” he says, handing it to her, “but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

The blaster in her hands, Keeasi looks up to him, her brows knit together in confusion. “Why are you doing this?” She asks. 

“Doing what?”

“Making sure I’m ok, giving me advice… helping me.” He purses her lips. “I can’t offer you anything.”

He nods for a moment, a pensive look on his face before he breaks out into a smile.  _ That _ smile. The same one that made her face turn red before. “I just have a good feeling about you.” He reaches our and brings a hand to her shoulder. “Be well.”

With that, the Jedi Apprentice is gone. Keeasi is alone again, left to her own devices to make her own way. Just how she likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a time jump coming up, so that's it for content set in the first movie. :)


	3. Trust

“I told you,” Keeasi groans, rolling her eyes at the drunk party-goer of the Outlander bar, “I  _ only _ take Republic Credits.” She watches him carefully as he stumbles about before her, crinkling her nose at the display. She doesn’t have time for this tonight. “Now get lost.”

The idiot propositioning her stands there with his mouth open, as though she’s slapped her in the face. “But,” he stammers, “four of these are worth at least--”

“Don’t care,” she snaps, her eyes surveying the rest of the club over the top of his head. “They’re worth nothing to  _ me. _ Come back when you have some Credits.” 

He scampers away finally, his antenni sagging low, muttering something about humans. She doesn’t mind, though. Just another interaction that strengthens her cover to everyone who might be watching her. 

It’s been ten years since leaving Tatooine, and while lots has changed, her work is somehow still the same. She’s a ‘Courtesan’ now, but she’s still sleeping with the same kinds of people. Sure, they’re richer -- lots of her clientele are Senators or Senate staff -- but they all still want the the same thing. Anyone can be good at sex, but the real skill is making them feel special and getting them to  _ talk. _ The biggest change to Keeasi’s work is that her main trade is information. She’d started in the Senate Guard and eventually worked her way up to Republic Intelligence. Turns out speaking three languages and having no reservations about sleeping with the enemy came in handy, after all.

She watches as Rak, one of the bars usual rodents, scurries through the club. Rak is the worst. He’s a greasy, slimy little drug dealer who couldn’t even get his hands on spice and wouldn’t know what to do with it if he somehow did. All he ever seems to be carrying is Death Sticks -- but they’re a cheap party for some of the patrons, which keeps them happy to spend more money, so the club lets him stick around. 

The rodent of a man scurries over to someone who’s just sat at the bar, and Keeasi can immediately smell trouble. The figure at the bar is a Jedi if the robes are anything to go off, and as much as she can’t stand the sight of him, Rak getting cut in half by a lightsaber would be bad for business. She leaves her usual private booth, pushing through the crowds of patrons to try and cut in before Rak is cut up.

By the time she’s within earshot of the bar, she sees the Jedi wave his hand at Rak. “I want to go home and rethink my life,” Rak says. She  _ really _ hopes he isn’t mocking a Jedi right now. Maybe he deserves it. 

“Ok, Rak,” she says, finally reaching him and placing her hand on his shoulder. “Time to get out of--” before she can finish, Rak turns and leaves without a word. Weird. “Look,” she sighs, a little confused but just happy there wasn’t a murder. “Rak is annoying and all, but he can’t tell a Jedi from a Wookie with all the Death Sticks he’s--”

“I assure you,” the Jedi says, his voice making her freeze up. She knows that voice. “I’m not here to cause trouble with the clientele.”

Keeasi turns, facing the Jedi and confirming her suspicions. “Obi-Wan?” She asks, her eyes wide.

“Keeasi?” He asks in turn, finally having gotten a good look at her face. She immediately takes the seat beside, him, looking around quickly.

“In here it’s Keekee,” she corrects, her voice low, leaning towards him. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same question of you,” he replies, looking her up and down, more to signal that she was clearly back in her old line of work than to judge her for it. “I thought you were joining the guard!”

“You first.”

His voice lowers to match hers. “Jedi business. Looking for someone.”

She hesitates for a moment, pursing her lips.  _ Should _ she tell him? Does that count as blowing her cover? He is a Jedi, though. If she doesn’t tell him, he can just find out. He has clearance to do so. “Republic Intelligence. It’s been a long time since I was in the guard.”

“Information collecting, then,” he concludes, giving a nod. “Quite a promotion. ...Still good with that blaster?” He asks.

“Best in my unit,” Keeasi brags.

He smiles. “Good. You might need it in a second.” 

Before she can ask what he means, the Jedi rises from his seat, his hand moving to the lightsaber on his belt. Within seconds it’s activated, and before Keeasi can even process what’s happening, there’s a scream and a woman lays against one of the displays and crying in pain as the club’s patrons begin to cry out in horror. “Jedi business!” another Jedi announces, appearing beside Obi-Wan to help pick the woman up. “Go back to your drinks.”

The club suddenly becomes so chaotic that Keeasi isn’t even able to see them leave.

* * *

Sitting in her private booth with the curtains down, Keeasi is not in the mood to deal with the rest of the club today. If someone comes seeking her services, security or the barman can send them her way. Most of her regulars know where to find her, anyway. 

She can’t stop thinking about how Obi-Wan. That entire encounter was just… bizarre. Not just running in to him randomly after ten years, but that he remembered her -- and so well, too.It probably doesn’t help that he cut down that woman like she was chaff after having a chat with Keeasi just seconds before. Keeasi is no stranger to violence -- she’s from Tatooine and she’s part of Republic Intelligence. You don’t get to this rank without having killed someone along the way, after all, and murder was a weekly occurance in the Cantina -- but something about it just… got to her this time. It’s not sitting right. Maybe it’s the fact that he was gone so quickly…

No. That’s stupid. 

“Hey, Keekee,” a gruff voice calls to her from the other side of the curtains. It’s one of the security guys. “Got a guy here who wants to see ya.”

She takes a breath, closing her eyes and taking a brief second to ground herself. It’s showtime. She shifts on the plush, velveteen seat and rummages through her purse to find her cigarettes. “Send ‘em in.” The curtains part for a moment, closing behind her guest, and she suddenly finds it usually difficult to stay grounded. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” she remarks, a playful smirk on her face to hide how uneasy she suddenly is. “I’m told it’s  _ Master _ Kenobi, now?” She removes a cigarette from the pack, gesturing for him to take a seat across from her in the booth as she lights it.

“Officially, yes,” he chuckles as he takes her up on the offer.

“Well,” she gives him a dutiful nod as she takes a brief drag on her cigarette. “How can I be of help, Master Kenobi? I think I’m safe to assume you’re not here for my advertised services.” She pauses, something twinging in her chest. “...Sorry. I was trying to be charming and it came out… never mind. What brings you in?”

“Two things,” he begins, crossing his arms and resting back in to the seat. “The first is to check up on you.”

“Check up on me?” Keeasi laughs, but it’s a laugh of disbelief. “I wasn’t aware the Jedi make social calls.” She takes a second to really,  _ really _ observe him. The last ten years have been… well, it’s been ten years. She’s not eighteen anymore, and he’s certainly not a young Apprentice, either. His hair has gone, as has the braid that Keeasi has always found to be a questionable part of the Jedi Apprentice uniform. He seems to be much more serious now, much more like Qui-Gonn Gin, but she can really chalk that up to age. She’s certainly matured in a similar way. He also has a beard. She likes the beard. She will never admit that she likes the beard. A handsome Jedi. What a waste. “How’s Anakin?” She asks. “Do you see him around?”

“He’s my Padawan, actually,” Obi-Wan explains. “He’s doing quite well in his training. He was here, actually. During the… incident.”

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “ _ That _ was Anakin? I didn’t even recognize him. He’s so big.”

Obi-Wan smiles. “It  _ has _ been ten years,” he reminds her. “Children do have a tendency to grow up.” He pauses and watches as she takes another drag. “Tell me about the guard,” he says. “How did you end up in Intelligence, of all places?”

She nods, relaxing her shoulders a little and settling in to the conversation. He’s still friendly, at least. “Did my basic training and service like everyone else, four years in blue. Then, one day, there’s an issue with one of the Pleasure Houses. You know, a spat between business owners? But one of them is a Senator. Huge scandal, everyone’s shooting everyone over it.” She pauses for another drag. “They need a woman who can pass for a working girl to go in and gather intelligence, find the ledgers, things like that.” She smiles. “An ex-working girl who also happens to speak and read Huttese? I don’t even think they bothered considering anyone else.”

“And I’m assuming it went well?”

“So well that I got promoted,” she laughs. “Not a lot of agents with my skill set, if you catch my drift.” She pauses, feeling that twinge again. What  _ is _ that? Why does she feel so weird about this? She’s just being her usual self. “I do other stuff, too,” she adds. “I carry private messages, tip off security forces, lay seeds of doubt in gang ranks -- you know, agent stuff.”

“Which brings me to the second reason why I’m here,” he announces, reaching into his cloak and placing something on the table with a light clank. Keeasi frowns and eyes it from her seat. It’s small and metal. “I need to know where this originated.”

She reaches out and takes the object between her fingers, inspecting it in the light. “What is it?”

“It’s from a poison dart,” he replies, matter-of-factly. She immediately drops it, the sudden clank causing the Jedi to laugh. “It won’t hurt you,” he assures her. “The venom is long gone.”

“Nice to see my fear is so funny to you,” she grumbles, taking another brief inhale of her cigarette and frowning. She knows where she can get an answer, or at least a lead, but that’s a source that won’t be happy if Keeasi brings them a Jedi. On top of that, her source thinks she’s just a working girl who happens to moonlight in information trading. She’ll need a good cover story for who Obi-Wan is meant to be. Part of her wants to ask him for a fee for all the effort and risk, but… that doesn’t sit right with her. “I might know someone who can help you,” she finally admits, shrugging and trying to seem casual and aloof despite the weird feeling in her gut about this. She serves the Republic, and the Jedi are on their side, so they’re allies… but usually a Jedi is an indication of big trouble. “I can take you to meet him, but--”

“But you want payment?” He completes.

“No,” she’s quick, shaking her head and stubbing out the remaining butt of her cigarette. She immediately reaches for a fresh one -- something is really getting to her about this. “No payment.”

“Are you sure?” He asks. “I’m entirely able to provide a reimbursement for your efforts.”

Again, she shakes her head, looking downwards at her hands, watching the smoke from her cigarette dissipate into the air. “When I was still a teenager I did something very stupid and incredibly dangerous,” she explains, “and a young Jedi brought me warm clothes and showed me kindness that I didn’t deserve.” She smiles a little at the memory. “It’s the least I can do to repay you. No fee. I insist.”

He hesitates, perhaps out of suspicion. She can’t really blame him if that’s the case. After all, she was suspicious of him when they first met. “That’s very generous of you,” he finally says. “Although it _ is  _ concerning that you feel you didn’t deserve kindness.” She blinks as he says this, something about it striking her. “Teenagers are famous for making mistakes, after all. And given where you are now, perhaps it was worth the risk.”

She gives a nervous laugh, trying to pretend this isn’t… god, is he being  _ charming? _ This is so inappropriate -- and she _ has sex with people for money. _ “My main concern,” she says, trying to get the conversation back on track, “is that my contact isn’t going to take kindly to a Jedi. He thinks I’m just an information trader as a side hustle. I can’t risk blowing my cover.”

“You say that as though I’m planning to announce myself before entering.”

Keeasi makes a show of looking him up and down before giving a long sigh. “Look, keep that cloak closed and don’t go waving that lightsaber around and we might get away with it.” She pauses, catching his gaze. “I mean it. Though. If he figures out you’re a Jedi, I’m going to get shot.” 

“Of course,” he agrees, giving a nod. “I completely understand. I won’t go ‘waving’ at anyone.” He smiles, watching as she rolls her eyes. “You don’t wear that paint anymore,” he observes, suddenly breaking the flow of the conversation.

“Paint?”

“The paint on your face. The purple. It looked like stripes.”

“Don’t really need it anymore,” she explains, shrugging again to hide her surprise that he even remembers that, especially considering even Keeasi had forgotten that she’d been wearing it when she snuck on the ship. “Not part of the culture here. Seems like it was a Tatooine specific thing, really.” She takes a long drag of her cigarette, closing her eyes, planning out her movements in her head. Today would be the best day to do it. “How urgent is this?” She asks. 

Instead of a response, he glances at the cigarette and it suddenly goes completely out. Confused, she takes it out of her lips and inspects the end that had once been lit. It’s completely extinguished, as though someone snuffed it out between their fingers. “You shouldn’t smoke those,” he suddenly says, a smug smile across his face. “Bad for you.”

Putting two and two together, she takes a deep breath and places the now dead cigarette in the ashtray in front of her. “I’ll ask again,” she says slowly, “how urgent is this?”

Obi-Wan looks around, taking a second to peek between the tiny gap in the curtains to make sure there’s no eavesdroppers. He leans across the table, his voice low, all the humour that was once on his face now gone. “There was an attempt on a Senator’s life.” 

“Ah,” she replies. “Urgent, then.” She nods and takes a second second to think, before opening her eyes, her plan in place. “Meet be out the back of Arani’s Bar in the red light district in two hours,” she instructs him. “ _ Don’t _ bring anyone. My contact is a little skittish and he has a  _ lot _ of firepower, so I’d rather not take any chances.”

* * *

“If not for our arranged meeting,” Obi-Wan muses as he approaches, “I wouldn’t have recognized you. Well done.”

“Should I be insulted that you think I’m unrecognizable with pants on?” She laughs. She sizes him up, shoving her hands in the pockets of her coat. “I guess you’ll pass for an old friend.” She purses her lips for a second, making her final decision to go ahead with this. “Guy I’m taking you to is an old smuggler, but not like the ones that bring in spice or whatever. He deals in exotic goods, artifacts -- the rare stuff. If your big old Jedi libraries don’t know where that thing’s from, he probably will.”

She tilts her head, gesturing for him to follow her as she begins to walk along the back paths of the district. “And how did you meet such a charming character?” He asks. 

“Not a client of my up-front services, if that’s what you’re asking,” she says, stepping over a pile of… well, whatever it is, it’s liquefied. “He knows me as an information trader. Helps him keep ahead of his competition.”

“And I imagine your information about him keeps the Senate one step ahead, too,” he says, shooting her a knowing glance and a smile.

He’s absolutely right, of course. The main reason Keeasi is so willing to go out of her way for this guy is because she can feed all this information back to Intelligence. “I plan on making it home alive today, so what are we calling you?”

“Ben,” he replies, not missing a beat, speaking with the confidence of someone who’s done this before. Maybe he isn’t entirely green, after all. 

She comes to a stop by the back of what looks like another club, a steel door closing it all off. She reaches out, pressing a button and setting off a buzzer. There’s a clock, and then some static from the speaker above it. “Staff only,” the voice grumbles almost inaudibly through the aged system.

“It’s Keekee,” she replies. “My friend and I have an early shift.” She shoots Obi-Wan a knowing look as the door’s lock clicks free with another buzz. “This way,” she says, her voice hushed as she opens the door, standing in the doorway to allow him to pass first.

The two make their way down a narrow steel corridor before Keeasi turns left, and all of a sudden they come to a room fit for a Hutt. The lighting is subdued, but the detailing of the rugs that cover the floor and walls are clear as day, regardless. There’s a bench at the centre of the room, as though it’s a secret store. In a way, it is. A place to buy the secret and stolen treasures that adorn the room, hidden from the eyes of the general public. Behind the bench stands a Mon Calamari, a frown on his face. He’s already less than pleased with the Keeasi’s company. “Keekee,” he grumbles, “you know how I feel about strangers.”

“He’s fine,” Keeasi insists, dismissively waving her hand. “Vebb, this is Ben. Old friend of mine from back on Tatooine.” She watches as the undercover jedi gives Vebb a polite nod before he makes his way to the bench, placing the dart base on it. “Was hoping you might know where that’s from,” she says.

Vebbs eyes are fixated on her, the tension in the air thick, but eventually he gives a grunt and relents. He takes the small piece of metal in his hands, inspecting it. “Mmmph, yeah,” he begins, holding it up to the light. “I know where this came from. But that’s valuable information, Keekee. And as you know, information is a commodity--”

“Southern loading docks, bay 8,” she interrupts, her voice firm. “Guy’s coming through with a shipment from Nar Shadda tomorrow night. Exotic animals, artifacts, all the stuff you like. He’s meant to auction it off with one of the Hutts, but if you were to greet him at the bay with a stack of credits and one or two of your best girls from the bar, I’m sure he’d give you first pick.” She pauses and flashes her ‘customer service’ smile, the smile she uses to get what she wants at work. “Especially if you tell him I sent you.”

Vebb doesn’t even give himself a moment to think. “Fair call,” he exhales, nodding to Obi-Wan, apparently satisfied with what Keeasi has to offer. “See the ridges here?” He asks, pointing carefully to the bulk of the dart tip, waiting for Obi-Wan to follow along and inspect it with a squint. “Kamino design. If the dart were intact, I’d be able to buy it off you for a decent amount. Those cloners are basically hermits these days, anything from Kamino is a collector’s item.”

“Cloners?” 

“Yeah,” Vebb drops it back into Obi-Wan’s hand. “Kaminoan technology has always been advanced, but now they specialise in clones, genetic engineering, you know. Correcting life’s mistakes.” 

“Or repeating them,” Obi-Wan adds with a frown, inspecting the dart for himself.

Keeasi crosses her arms. “I’ve heard of Kaminoans, or Kamino, for that matter,” she argues, a hint of distrust in her voice. If Vebb is trying to trick her, he is in for an incredibly rude awakening.

But, the dealer shrugs, not a hint of defensiveness in his stature. “Not surprised. It’s beyond the Outer Rim. Maybe… I don’t know… somewhere in the Rishi Maze? Only people who’ve really heard of it are usually in my line of work -- or people who need a clone.” He pauses, watching Obi-Wan carefully. For a second, Keeasi thinks he may have recognized the Jedi. “You aren’t thinking of going there, are you?” He asks.

“Depends on if I can find it,” Obi-Wan replies, pocketing the dart once more. “I may have to do some research.”

“If you do,” Vebb begins, leaning forward, a grin on his face, “let me know if you plan on bringing back any uh, souvenirs. Kaminoan tech sells well out this way. I’ll give you a good cut!”

He chuckles at this, and the way he looks to Keeasi is… there’s that feeling again. “I’ll keep that in mind, my friend,” he replies. “Thank you for your help.”

* * *

“So you’re going?” She asks as they walk back down the backstreets. “To Kamino?”

Obi-Wan tilts his head from left to right, giving a nod. “I should hope so.” There’s a hint of sarcasm to his voice, as though it should have been obvious to her. “Granted I can find it.”

She freezes in place, the clicking of her heeled boots suddenly absent from the soundscape. “Let me come with you.”

He stops, turning to face her, confusion in his face. “What?” Is all he can manage. Perhaps there’s more to this than he’s let on, or maybe she’s just not grasping the gravity of what’s happening.

“You said someone tried to assassinate a Senator,” she explains, her voice hushed. “And… look, I’ve been noticing things. Hearing things.”

Crossing his arms, he only seems more confused. “What kind of things?”

“It might not sound like much to you,” she begins, “but it’s been lots of small things, just things that are… off. Things going ‘unnoticed’ with no bribes paid, shipments coming in and going out for strange things, unregistered black market transport being hired for double the cost for confidentialities sake, communication signals coming from planets that I haven’t even heard of.” She pauses, catching up with herself. “Over the last two or three years, it’s all been adding up. As though someone in the Senate was turning a blind eye to things. And now that there’s been an assassination attempt, and this weird thing from Kamino… this could be important. This could be something I need to pass on.”

She can tell he’s listened to her, at least, and for a moment he might have even considered it. But he shakes his head, just as she’d imagined he would. “I must do this alone,” he replies, “but I’ll pass on whatever information I can to you.” There’s a silence momentarily before he finally speaks again. “And if you try to stow away, I’ll know.” Keeasi rolls her eyes at this, her shoulders dropping. As dumb as this sounded, the possibility definitely crossed her mind.

“In that case, then,” she announces with a sigh, “I should say goodbye. I live just outside the district and it’s getting late, and I’m sure you have Jedi stuff to attend to.”

The Jedi shakes his head, stepping towards her. “Allow me to walk you home. It’s the least I can do. Besides,” he waits for her to start walking again before continuing on, walking by her side, “I’m curious as to how you’d spent the last ten years.”

Despite her best efforts, her expression slips and a smile escapes. It’s… endearing, this weird fondness that he seems to have for her. “I already told you most of it,” she replies with a shrug. “What about you?” She asks. “Got any cool Jedi stories you’re allowed to tell?”

* * *

By the time they arrived at her apartment it had started to rain, and Keeasi had insisted that Obi-Wan come inside until it at least let up a little. He’d accepted, even though Keeasi’s insistence came with the caveat that he wasn't obligated to if it was improper for him as a Jedi. He is, after all, a Jedi, and as far as everyone else is concerned, Keeasi is a working girl. Still, though, he’d accepted. Part of Keeasi wonders if he did so in order to prove it doesn’t matter to him. Does it matter to him? It didn’t seem to matter ten years ago. 

Her apartment is different to the Senate apartments Obi-Wan is used to seeing. It’s small, probably only one or two rooms, but it’s warm enough that he has to remove his cloak after a few minutes. “Sorry that it’s so warm in here,” Keeasi apologizes from the kitchen, switching on her water-boiler. “You can take the girl out of Tatooine, but you can’t take the Tatooine out of the girl. It’s the only thing I really dislike about it here. It’s so cold.”

“Don’t apologise,” he dismisses, folding his cloak over his arm before handing it over the back of one of the two chairs by the very small table in her living area. “It’s your home.” He takes a minute to look around and take in his surroundings. “Although you’ve certainly brought a Tatooine flavor to it, I will admit.” Most of her furniture is warm colors, browns and reds and tans.

“For someone who was so desperate to get off world, I really did miss it after a few years.” She grabs two mugs from a cupboard, moving to her pantry to rummage through it. “You ever been back?” She asks, her voice slightly muffled. 

He takes a seat and shakes his head. “To Tatooine? No. Although I’ve been hoping to be called back there one day. It would be good for Anakin. He misses his mother.”

Triumphant, she returns from the depths of her pantry with a small jar of tea. “Of course he does,” she says as she moves back to the cups, preparing the drinks as the water finally begins to boil. “How old was he when he left her? Younger than ten?” She pauses. “Although, doesn’t that conflict with your code or something?”

“It’s more that it interferes,” Obi-Wan explains. She finishes with the teas, Obi-Wan watching as she brings the two cups to the table, placing one in front of him. “We seek to find a place of peace within. We cannot find that peace if we are troubled.”

“Is that why Jedi can’t… you know?” She waits for him to nod before continuing. “Isn’t that hard?” She asks. “Not falling in love?”

He eyes his mug, his fingers setting on the sides of it. It takes him a moment to think it over. “For some, I imagine it is.” He shoots the kind of smile at her that she’s learned means he’s about to take a jab at her. “Is that a question you’re often asked about your line of work?”

Unable to help herself, she laughs, nodding and setting her mug back down. “All the time. A lot of people seem to think it’s what I’m selling. And I know it’s a part of it, but… I guess it’s a bit of an unspoken rule for us. Don’t fall in love.”

“Ah, but you have freedom outside of work,” he argues.

Keeasi shakes her head. “It’s not so much that as it is the secrets. I’ve been double crossing people for Senators for so long that I uh…” she tilts her head from side to side, finding the right words. “It’s hard to trust people. I just can’t tell anyone the truth about what I do. It’s too dangerous.”

“You trusted me.”

She rolls her eyes once more, trying to withhold a grin. “You’re a Jedi. It’s a  _ little _ different. Technically,” she muses, pausing to take a sip of her tea, “we’re on the same side, anyway. We both serve the Republic.”

He nods. “That we do. Do you report to any particular Senator?”

“Not really. We tend to work on assignments, although there are some specific Senators who contract my information services privately.” She suddenly looks him in the eye, excitement in her own eyes, that grin finally making its way out. “Although, I’m well overdue a promotion if you ask me,  _ and _ I’ve been summoned to the Senate Tower tomorrow, so who knows? I don’t wanna jinx it…  _ but… _ ”

“Well, if you need a reference,” he says with a chuckle. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Obi-Wan takes a sip of the tea, mulling the taste over before giving an appreciative nod. “What is this?” He asks.

“Alderaan Loose Leaf,” she replies. “My favorite. We used to live near one of the tea farms when I was a child. I swear it was all my mother ever drank.”

His eyebrows rise in surprise. “You’re from Alderaan?” He asks.

“Yeah. Originally.” She runs her fingers over the sides of her mug, feeling the warm textures against her fingertips. “My parents served House Organa.”

“How’d you end up on Tatooine, of all places?”

“My mother died in an accident,” Keeasi explains, “and not long after that, Dad and I got on a ship and went to Tatooine.”

“Alderaan to Tatooine is…” 

“A big jump?” She laughs. “Yeah.”

Obi-Wan thinks this over. “Why Tatooine, though?”

Keeasi shrugs. “I don’t really know. I was pretty young at the time, but I can remember Dad saying he’d done something wrong. I’m not sure what -- he never told me -- but it was enough for us to pack up and leave with almost no warning.” She purses her lips. “Eventually, he got sick, like… so sick he couldn’t get out of bed,” she recalls. “So it was on me to start bringing home food for us to eat and I started stealing.” She pauses, watching him as he waits for her to continue. “When he died, I moved on to stripping trading ships, scavving, that kind of thing… and then I heard about how much money the girls in the Cantina were making.” She takes another sip of her tea. “How about you?” She asks. “What about your family?”

He sits his cup back down and Keeasi makes a mental note that he seems to at least like the tea. Maybe she’ll buy more. Just in case. “I have no memory of them,” he replies, a frankness in his voice that takes her by surprise. “The Jedi recruit force-sensitive children as young as possible.” He pauses for a moment, thinking over something before a very small and almost unnoticeable smile appears in the corners of his mouth. “I was just shy of six months. I…” he chuckles to himself. “I may have gotten curious once I was granted access to the records.”

“And that was it?” She asks. “Nothing else to go off?” She watches as he takes another sip of tea and shakes his head again. “Would you try to find them if you could?”

He stares into his tea for a moment, silence settling over the table as he thinks the question over. “I try not to think about that possibility,” he finally replies.

Keeasi is unsure how to follow on after this. She’s trying to make polite conversation, and yet she’s managed to turn things sombre and dark. “Well,” she finally breathes, her voice somewhat quiet, unsure of what she’s about to say. “However you were brought up, you came out…” she trails off, suddenly realising  _ what _ she’s saying, to a  _ Jedi _ of all people. “...Good.” She shifts in her seat, unsure of how he’s going to react. To relief, though, he responds well: with a smile. 

“Thank you.”

* * *

Keeasi fidgets with the cuffs of her dress uniform in the elevator. She hasn’t worn it in nearly a year now. Luckily for her, the Senate Tower is cool and airy, unlike the stuffy Intelligence Hub she reports to. Regardless, though, the uniform still manages to make her feel uncomfortable and restricted. The cuffs always seem too tight on her wrists. 

She watches herself in the mirror of the elevator, trying to be subtle in front of the other few people who share it with her. She looks so different in uniform. Her dark hair rolls up into the perfect bun, sitting underneath the line of her dress uniform’s cap, and her makeup is rather understated spare for the red lipstick. She could almost fool herself into thinking she’s come from a different life, like she’s been someone else the entire time. She knows the uniform is hers -- she’s earned it -- but it still feels  _ off. _ Like a costume. Like she’s pretending. Maybe she is a little.

The elevator comes to a stop, the doors opening. A familiar figure steps inside. “Master Kenobi,” she quietly acknowledges as he steps into the elevator, giving him a singular nod. 

He returns the nod, standing beside her, facing the doors. “Agent Denn.” They share a polite silence for the rest of the trip up the tower until eventually the doors open on her floor. To her surprise, Obi-Wan gestures his arm outwards, offering for her to exit first before he follows. “You may want to know that your meeting today is with Supreme Chancellor Palpatine,” he says, so quietly that she strains to hear it at first.

“What?” She asks, shooting him a quick glance before regaining her composure. She’s in the Senate Tower. She has to remain professional -- or at least look like it -- and they shouldn’t have even been having this conversation. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, I know for a fact,” he replies. He may not be outwardly smiling, but his eyes give him away. “Seems you’re in line for quite the promotion.” Keeasi sucks in a deep breath, her nerves suddenly resurfacing. She was expecting a promotion, but she wasn’t expecting it to have anything to do with the  _ Supreme Chancellor. _ “Don’t be nervous,” he says, finally smiling as they turn the corner into one of the less busy halls. “You’ve already been approved.”

She’s absolutely lost for works, slowing her pace ever so much to buy more time. “How do you know all this?” She asks, lowering her voice to a complete whisper. Even  _ she _ doesn’t know this stuff, and she’s an Intelligence Agent.

Obi-Wan gives another one of his chuckles as they finally arrive by the double doors where she’d been summoned. This  _ definitely _ looks like what she assumes the Supreme Chancellor’s office looks like. Or at least the doors. He stops and turns to face her, a knowing look in his eyes as he places his hand on her shoulder. “Because I recommended you for it.” He smiles and gives a very gentle squeeze, and everything is suddenly so overwhelming that Keeasi worries she might be sick from anxiety. He lets go and gives her a parting nod, before making his way back down the hall where they’d came from. Has he come here just to tell her this?

The doors open, however, and Keeasi is forced to put those thoughts on hold.

She steps inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited for the next chapter because Palpatine is the funnest character to write in this entire franchise.


	4. Intrigue

There’s three of them in the room, lined up in official stance. She doesn’t recognize the other two, but they’re in the same dress uniform as she is, so Keeasi assumes they’re other agents. She’s painfully nervous, but she’s doing her best to hide it. 

She’s getting a promotion. Or, well, they all are -- and as the Supreme Chancellor has explained to them, they aren’t under the command of Republic Intelligence anymore. They’re to report to him directly now as his own Intelligence Task Force. “You’re to be my eyes and ears,” he explains, his voice authoritative, yet somehow assuring. “As my Intelligence Operatives, you will be trusted with key information and operations crucial to the safety and security of the Republic. You have been selected for your range of specialised skills and results, and believe me when I say I am well aware of your achievements.” He pauses and gives a smirk. “I hand picked you from the final ten applicants myself.” He begins to pace back and forth, making sure to gain eye contact with each of them. “The sensitive nature of your work means it is no longer viable for you to live in barracks or small, insecure dwellings. You’ll each be given an apartment near the Senate Villas, all fully paid for on top of your salaries. A… thank you for the risks you’ll no doubt undertake to serve the Republic.” He comes to a stop once more, giving a gentle nod and a smile. “Thank you for your time. Please report to my Security Officer outside who will direct you further. Dismissed.”

All three bow to the Supreme Chancellor, Keeasi aching for the moment when she can finally express how excited she is. No mout Outlander’s Club, no more tiny apartment! She might even get to go off world for once.

“Agent Denn,” he suddenly asks, causing her to seize up in her tracks. “A word, if you would?”

Her heart sinks in her chest. Has she already found a way to do something wrong? “Of course, Chancellor,” she replies, turning to face him as the doors slide shut behind the other two.

He smiles, making his way behind his desk. “You can relax,” he assures her, “think of this as no more than an informal chat.” He gestures to the free seat across from him as he takes his own. “Please, sit.” Keeasi obliges without question, trying as best as she can to hide her nerves again. “I must say, your record is astoundingly interesting,” he begins. “One hundred and eighteen completed assignments with only two failed -- not including your long term field work on Coruscant.”

Her jaw tenses when she realises he’s staring at her, waiting for her to speak. “Thank you, Chancellor,” she finally manages. “I’ve just been doing my job.”

“Of course. You’re quite the model Agent,” he continues, “willing to make quite personal sacrifices in service, too. Six years working in those brothels and bars? Why, I’m surprised at your lack of formal decorations. I would have pinned a medal on you for your service long ago had you been brought to my attention.” He nods to himself, lacing his hands together and leaning towards her across the desk. “Agent Denn, I’d like to assign you as my Lead Agent. You’ve proven time and time again that you can be trusted with information that could… well,” he purses his lips together, “mean the end of the Republic if in the hands of the wrong people. It is a position that will come with great risk,” he warns her, “and you will often have to make sacrifices, I should imagine -- ones that may even work against your personal beliefs… but I think you’ll be able to handle that.” The expression on his face stops just short of a wink. “For the good of the Republic.”

It takes her a second to realise her mouth is hanging open, but she’s much too bewildered to care. Is he for real? Is this actually happening? “I’m… I’m honoured, Chancellor,” she finally responds, bowing in her seat to him. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“Good, good!” He exclaims, clapping his hands together. “That’s what I like to hear. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s something in the water on Tatooine that makes good, honest people. You aren’t sensitive to the Force, too, are you?” He jokes. Keeasi chuckles along, shaking her head as he continues. “Excellent. I won’t have to worry about losing you to the Jedi, then… at least…” he hesitates, his expression softening a little. “...In a…  _ professional  _ sense.”

She raises an eyebrow, something about his tone and the little smirk on his face making her a little but uncomfortable, but more confused than anything. “Forgive me, Chancellor, but I uh… I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

His expression softens completely, becoming almost somber. “No, it is you who must forgive me,” he begins. “It’s just… Master Kenobi gave you such a  _ glowing _ recommendation. It’s not unusual for the Jedi to be a good judge of character, mind you… but he was… I hesitate to use the word -- but he was quite passionate about your abilities.” He shrugs. “When you get to my age, you learn to spot these things a little more efficiently.”

“Oh!” She gives a shocked laugh. “Oh, no, we’re just very old friends, Chancellor, that’s all, I assure you.”

“Ah, that is assuring to hear,” he exhales. “Because, well, as much as it is not my business, I cannot have my Lead Agent involved with a Jedi. For professional reasons, of course.”

“Absolutely, Chancellor,” she agrees with a nod. “Their code doesn’t allow it, anyway.”

He leans back into his seat, frowning. “Sad, isn’t that?” He asks. “That they live under a code that forbids them from one of life’s greatest experiences -- one of life’s biggest motivations. Although, I have heard stories, rumours. Plenty have broken the rules before with little consequence other than scandal…” he shrugs. “I can’t say I’m all too familiar with Jedi code or history, however. Which, coincidentally, brings me to your first assignment!”

He takes a datachit from the side of his desk and slides it across the surface. “It’s a simple one,” he explains, “just until I finalise the details of your next mission. I need you to give me a status report on Senator Amidala. She’s recently gone into hiding, and while I do receive official correspondence…” he gives a long exhale, “I feel as though there’s something being hidden from me. You’re to travel to Naboo, but think of this as a reconnaissance mission, if you will. I’d prefer to not panic the Senator. Just observe her wellbeing. I need to make sure she is safe and well cared for, after all, and I’d hate for any lapses in security to go unnoticed.”

“Yes, Chancellor,” she says, taking the datachit gently in her hands, so paranoid she’s going to ruin things on her first day that she’s scared of breaking it.

“Deliver this datachit to Queen Jamillia. I’ve informed her that you’re to be acting as a messenger for important correspondence between herself and the Senate. The datachit also includes a message from myself giving you permission to access the Senator’s location so that you may deliver this,” he says, reaching over the desk and opening his palm. A datacube. “It contains highly confidential Senate related information that I just  _ can’t _ trust to traditional transmission methods.” 

“Of course, Chancellor,” she confirms, taking the datacube as well.   
  
“I should warn you, however,” he interjects, “that she is being guarded by a Jedi. Your friend’s Apprentice, actually.” Anakin. Keeasi dare not let that slip, though. She doesn’t want the Chancellor to think she’s any closer to Obi-Wan than she actually is. “I’d advise caution. Jedi…” he pauses, his face stern as he searches for the words. “Well, I’m sure that you’re more than aware of the Jedi and their abilities. Just remember to be confident in your actions. If you do your job right, there should be no issues.”

She nods. “And I  _ will _ do my job right, Chancellor.”

The Chancellor grins for a moment before suddenly breaking into a laugh, coming to his feet, Keeasi rising with him. “Ah, yes! I think that the two of us are going to get along just fine, Agent Denn!” He exclaims, gesturing to the doors and walking her out. “Why, I believe I might soon be calling you Agent Commander.”

* * *

“I must thank you again for bringing such important correspondence to me directly, Agent Denn,” Queen Jamillia says from behind her desk, her council surrounding them. This room… this entire palace is nothing like Keeasi has ever seen before. She’s been to some incredibly extravagant places on Coruscant -- she’s slept with Senators, after all -- but this is… incredible. “It is unusual for Agents of the Republic to be so devoted in their intelligence carrying.”

She nods, holding her arms behind her back, keenly aware of the way every set of eyes in the room is watching her. “The Supreme Chancellor has pledged to tighten security matters,” she explains, “and he is a man of his word. Such sensitive information absolutely cannot fall into the wrong hands during these times.”

“Absolutely,” The Queen agrees. “I will note in my reply to The Supreme Chancellor that such measures are greatly appreciated.”

“Your Majesty,” Keeasi begins, mustering all of her courage. She can’t make a single mistake with her wording. “I am obligated to address the matter of the important correspondence I have been tasked with delivering to Senator Amidala.”

“Yes,” says The Queen with a nod, although her expression is hardly welcoming at this concept. “The Supreme Chancellor did make such a request in the message you delivered.” She glances to her council for a moment. “You must understand my hesitation to disclose her location, Agent.” The Queen’s words are slower than before. Until now, she spoke easily, almost what Keeasi might imagine is casual for a Queen. But now it’s stilted, careful. She’s choosing her words delicately. “Given the circumstances in which the Senator is currently residing on Naboo, perhaps one of my council may deliver the correspondence to her, if you would permit?”

Keeasi shakes her head. “I’m afraid it’s highly confidential and sensitive information, your Highness. I have been ordered by the Supreme Chancellor to deliver it to the Senator directly, just as I delivered your correspondence to you.” She takes a moment to think. She’s had clients like this before, smugglers and arms dealers who haven’t wanted to let up on information she’s needed. This is The Queen, yes, but under all that finery and makeup? She’s still a person to be hustled, just like the rest of them. 

“If I may say so, your Majesty,” Keeasi begins, tilting her head downwards, trying to make herself look a little bit unsure. Humility is the lubricant of the hustle. It’s what makes them feel like they’re the one in control, not her. “While I’m not privy to the content of the correspondence -- for the Supreme Chancellor to send his Lead Agent, alone, during such times of instability…” Keeasi pauses and seizes the Queens gaze with her own. “I imagine it must be of absolute importance. Especially given, as you said, the circumstances of the Senator’s residence in Naboo. I worry that her wellbeing may be at stake.”

A long period of silence follows, the council members all looking to each other, waiting for The Queen’s verdict. Eventually, though, the Queen gives a solitary nod. “I will have transport arranged for you to the Senator’s location, and I will have her informed of your arrival.”

“I am indebted, Your Majesty.” Says Keeasi with a bow as the Queen rises. 

Now there’s just the matter of what Keeasi is going to do on arrival, especially given that there’s every chance that the Senator and her bodyguard will recognize who she is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter this time to make up for how long the last one was ;)


	5. Hostility

Sure enough, Padme has a good memory. “You seem so familiar,” the Senator remarks as Keeasi hands her the datacube. The trip had taken three or so hours, and the sun has been long set in the Lake Country. Even so, it’s still warm on the terrace that overlooks the lake, and the moon is bright enough that Keeasi’s identity is hardly obscured. “We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

She considers lying for a moment, but Padme seems… genuinely happy to see her, whoever she thinks Keeasi might be. There seems to be little harm in the truth -- and building that trust might help Keeasi gain some more information. “We have, actually,” she confirms. “A long time ago. I was the stowawy on--”

“On the ship out of Tatooine!” Padme completes, her smile beaming now. “Of course! Kee…. Kee…”

“Keeasi,” she offers. 

“You’ll have to forgive me,” the Senator laughs. “The last ten years, so many names…” she stops. “Anakin!” She calls, lifting the hem of her skirt and gesturing for Keeasi to follow. “Anakin, you’ll never guess who’s here!” However, they only really get a few steps -- Anakin has already arrived. Keeasi can’t help but question if he’d been lurking nearby the entire time. “Anakin, look who it is! Do you remember--”

“Yes, I remember,” he interrupts. “Keekee.” Anakin is very, very visibly  _ not _ pleased to see Keeasi. There’s a smile, probably for Padme’s sake, but she knows that look. It’s  _ the _ look. Her heart sinks. Professional matters aside, she’s been a little excited to see him again, all grown up, so different from the little boy that used to run around Watto’s. But all she’s got from him is… that look. The mix of pity, judgement, disgust… although his is a special kind of judgemental, she’ll admit. “My master spoke of you before we left for Naboo.”

“Hopefully good things,” replies, her attempt at a bit of a joke. Anakin doesn’t respond.

Padme glances at the two, seemingly picking up on the tension. “Keeasi, it’s late and it’s a long journey back to the capital. You’re more than welcome to stay here for the night as a guest.”

“Milady,” Anakin cuts in. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

The look that Padme gives the Jedi Apprentice is unlike anything Keeasi thought Padme was capable of. It’s icy. Firm. She supposes that this is a Senator, after all. She, like Keeasi, has a business-face. “Keeasi is an old friend  _ and _ one of the Chancellor’s own Agents.” Anakin opens his mouth to argue, but she gets in first. “If anything, her presence will provide added security.” Satisfied with her statement, she turns her attention back to Keeasi, not even waiting to gauge Anakin’s response. “If you stay the night, it also means I can send my response to the Chancellor back with you.”

Keeasi gives a soft smile, still uneasy from Anakin’s reaction to the proposal and… the way he’s still looking at her. “It’ll definitely make my job easier,” she replies with a nervous laugh. “I’d be happy to.”

* * *

The rest of the evening is quite pleasant, and Keeasi does, despite her real motivations for being there, enjoy Padme’s company. Even though Anakin has spent the majority of the evening trying to ignore the Intelligence Agent, Padme and Keeasi have more than enough to talk about without any of his input. Keeasi is obligated to remain professional, of course, but she’s not breaking any rules or jeopardizing her assignment by being friendly. Over the last ten years she’s been so consumed by her work that she doesn’t really have many friends. In fact, Keeasi isn’t even sure she’s ever done this whole ‘friendly catch up over dinner’ thing before. The closest she’s come to this has been dinner-date bookings with clients or intelligence gathering with targets… although… she can argue that this could also be considered intelligence gathering. The thought of that saddens her.

As unhappy with Keeasi as Anakin is, though, he seems to be very happy and comfortable with Padme. At one stage she swears he’s flirting with the Senator, although she quashes it quickly. Keeasi can’t help but wonder if it’s because she’s there or because it’s just inappropriate. 

Eventually, though, after a few glasses of wine and some discussion about what Keeasi can expect living in the Senatorial District, it’s time to turn in for the night. Anakin volunteers to show Keeasi to the guest room, which she doesn’t find surprising. He’s suspicious of her. She can tell that much.

“And this is your room,” he says after leading her through a few halls in total silence, opening a door and leading her inside. She steps inside, placing her small back of personal belongings on the bedside table -- but the second Anakin closes the door behind them both, she knows something is wrong. “What do you think you’re doing?” He asks.

“Excuse me?”

“He crosses his arms, his back to the door, standing between her and her escape. “You think you can hide it from me,” he says, his voice so low that it’s almost a growl. 

The instinctively takes a step back, mentally mapping the room in case this goes the way she’s worried it will. She has a blaster on her hip, sure, but he has a Lightsaber. Not a close match at all. “I’m not following,” she replies. There’s a window in the room -- if it comes to it, maybe she can shoot him in his dominant arm and make a break for it. 

“I may be an apprentice, but I’m advanced. I can feel it on you,” he begins to pace. “Knowing what I know about you now…” he pauses, looking her dead in the eye, his expression dark. “A who--”

“Woah,” she cuts in, her palms up, trying to diffuse the situation. “That is hardly indicative of my character. We  _ both _ serve the Republic.” Keeasi is doing her best to mask how shaken she is by this. The venom in his voice, the anger… how is this the same kid that used to get excited about Pod Racing? 

“It’s absolutely indicative of your character,” he argues. “You lie and you cheat. It’s how you got on that ship, it’s how you avoided prison, it’s how you’ve tricked my Master into trusting you the way he does.” Keeasi really, really wants to press that point. Did Obi-Wan say something to Anakin? This hardly makes any sense, there  _ has _ to be something else going on here. “You may have manipulated your way into your job, but you can’t manipulate me. I know why you’re really here.”

By now, all Keeasi can really do is listen in a haze of complete and utter disbelief. “Why am I here, then?” She asks. “What else could I possibly be here for other than to give Padme the Chancellor’s me--”

“You’re here to spy on me,” he accuses, his voice bursting with anger as he tries to not shout. Keeasi’s heart stops. How the hell did he figure it out? How has she already blown her own cover? “You’re here to tell my Master and the Jedi Council about my performance, aren’t you?”

Keeasi has a few very limited options. While she’s glad that Anakin hasn’t managed to catch her out, and she could, of course, deny this, there’s no way he’ll believe her. He’s way too amped up. He’s probably had this conclusion stewing in his head since she landed. She can act insulted and demand to leave at once -- but that’s hardly discrete and does little to disprove or deny his theory. Or she could just run at the risk of him catching up with her and cutting her down. Keeasi, though, has met men like this before, and there’s definitely a reason behind this paranoia. “Look,” she exhales, dropping her shoulders in defeat. “It’s not… I wasn’t sent by the council,” she explains. “I really did need to deliver that datacube… but as a favor to Obi-Wan…” she shrugs. “He just wanted to make sure you’re ok, that’s all.” All lies. But it’s what he wants to hear. 

His jaw visibly tenses. “So he thinks I’m not capable, is that it?”

“No,” she insists. “Not at all. But there’s a lot happening on Coruscant right now, as I’m sure you already are aware.” She has no idea if he’s aware, but she wants him to feel smart. “Politics have intensified… There’s been additional safety concerns. He’s just… worried, as any mentor would be.” He doesn’t respond to this. “So now I can go back to Coruscant tomorrow, tell him you’re fine and there’s nothing to worry about.” Keeasi pauses, making a slow of glancing around the room. “Um. Except for the bugs.”

“Bugs?” He asks.

“Yeah, bugs. I’m meant to do a sweep for listening devices. Just in case.” She gives a shrug. “But you seem pretty confident, so I can just skip that and--”

“Tomorrow morning,” he cuts in. “And once you’re done with that, you’re leaving. Understood?” 

Keeasi nods. “Clear as day.”

With that, he storms out of the room, all but slamming the door behind her. Something is  _ up. _

* * *

Keeasi’s ‘sweep’ the next morning didn’t bring up any bugs, but she noticed some very peculiar things. Given free range of the house (although Anakin did follow her throughout,) she quickly noticed that the room she’d slept in was the only room other than Padme’s that had a bed in it. Was it meant to be Anakin’s room? Where did he sleep when Keeasi stayed? The house had couches, sure, but they didn’t seem very comfortable to sleep in -- unless he slept in Padme’s wardrobe, which was roughly the size of Keeasi’s apartment.

Anakin was keen for Keeasi to leave, meaning she conducted the ‘sweep’ first thing in the morning, before the servants arrived and made the beds. While checking Padme’s bedroom, she noticed both sides of the sheets were untucked. Unusual, considering the size of the bed vs the size of Padme, but Keeasi was unable to ask questions or really focus too hard on anything that wasn’t underneath a lampshade she was inspecting. It wasn’t until she found a familiar looking black robe tossed behind one of the small couches in the bedroom that it clicked. No wonder he was so defensive. He could be expelled from the order over it. It would be a scandal.

Keeasi didn’t dare say anything, though. She concluded the house was free of listening devices and bugs, happily took Padme’s correspondence and made her way directly back to Coruscant. 

And now she stands in front of the Supreme Chancellor, who is very, very happy with the datacube in his hand. 

“Above and beyond, although I can hardly say I’m surprised,” he laughs. “How is the Senator?”

“She’s well,” Keeasi responds. “She’s in the Lake Country with her guard. She’s safe and in good spirits.”

He opens his desk drawer and drops the datacube inside. “Wonderful, just wonderful. Tell me, her guard, Kenobi’s Apprentice,” he begins, “how are they getting along?”

She raises an eyebrow. “They seem to get along fine, Chancellor.”

The Chancellor eyes her for a moment before tilting his head towards the double doors behind his desk. “Walk with me, Agent Denn,” he instructs, turning and opening the doors with a push of the button. She dutifully follows him out to his balcony, where a spectacular view of the endless Coruscant skyline greets her. “How  _ well _ are they getting along?” He asks, resting his arms on the balcony’s railing, Keeasi standing beside him. “Did anything seem… out of place?” He pauses, glancing to Keeasi. “I merely ask out of concern. The Senator is an old and dear friend to me.”

Keeasi thinks it over. Part of her doesn’t feel right about disclosing the  _ rest _ of her findings. Padme, despite really only being an associate, treated her like an old and dear friend, and to tell the  _ Supreme Chancellor _ about her and Anakin having some kind of affair feels a lot like snitching. But this is her job, isn’t it? Snitching on people. And Padme won’t get in trouble, only Anakin… and that’s if the Chancellor chooses to say anything. She doesn’t serve the Jedi, after all. She serves the Republic. “I… I’m unsure how to phrase this appropriately, Chancellor…”

His eyes widen. “Do you mean to tell me there may have been some… impropriety?” 

“I believe they may be… having an affair.” It takes every part of her not to cringe. Ratting out a ‘friend,’ the shock on the Chancellor’s face… this is all very uncomfortable, even for her. 

He mulls over this for a moment, his eyes looking downwards before giving a singular nod. “I see,” he says, turning his gaze back out over the horizon. “...But she is safe?” He asks.

“Yes, Chancellor.”

“And she is happy?”

This takes Keeasi by surprise a little. “I suppose so. She seemed to be.”

“Then I see no reason to disclose this to anyone,” he decides. Keeasi doesn’t know what she was expecting, exactly, but she’s unsure if it was this. “Even though this is forbidden by the Jedi code… now is not the time for another scandal.” He looks to Keeasi. “I must ask you to keep this from Master Kenobi. We cannot risk him withdrawing the Apprentice and losing such a dedicated bodyguard.”

“Of course, Chancellor.” She gives a nod in the affirmative. She never really planned on telling Obi-Wan, anyway, just in case she was wrong. Something about the kindness of the High Chancellor strikes her, though, and for the first time she feels a genuine sense of pride. Most Senators she’s reported to before have been entirely self serving, and would have immediately weaponized information like this, even at the risk of Padme’s safety.

“Speaking of which,” he begins, his voice returning to it’s regular volume, “I’m afraid I must be the one to deliver some bad news.” Keeasi feels herself tense up. Oh no. Is she fired? “It’s about Master Kenobi…” the Chancellor’s voice shifts into something more gentle, hesitant, even. “I’m afraid he’s missing.”

Keeasi frowns. “Missing?” She repeats. “But he only went off world a few--”

“Yes, he did,” he explains, watching her carefully as he speaks. “But all communication has ceased. No one can seem to get a signal on his transport… not even the Jedi…” he trails off, obviously seeing something in her expression she’s failed to hide. “I’m sorry Agent, I know you are close.”

She doesn’t know quite what to feel or how to respond. The Chancellor seems to be implying that he’s dead. But he can’t be. Surely Anakin would have sensed it or something. That’s a thing that the Jedi do, right? Unless something happened while she was in transit between Naboo and Coruscant. “He…” she pauses, frowning, trying to keep her composure. Why is this hitting her so hard? He’s a friend, yes, but she’s lost people in the field that she knew much better and was able to at least make it through a meeting. “On the contrary, I’ll choose to hold out hope for his safe return,” she carefully says. “I’ve come to learn he’s quite crafty.”

The Chancellor, however, does not seem as convinced, continuing to study her face before finally speaking. “Of course,” he finally relents, giving her a small smile. “The Jedi are well attuned, after all. Perhaps they will sense him soon.”

* * *

The sky on Coruscant is entirely amber, adding to the surrealness of the day. So much new information is on her shoulders, weighing her down. A clone army, the details of the cloning facilities, a new war, possible turncoats within the Senate… but none of that is what’s making her fidget as she makes her way through the Senate Tower. Obi-Wan is still alive -- rescued and back on Coruscant. And even more -- the Supreme Chancellor has assigned Keeasi to work with him during the war effort. ‘An unofficial intermediary between the Chancellor and the Jedi,’ as he put it. It’s a lot. She’s never had this much responsibility before. She’s never even been involved in a war before, and for the first time in a long time, she feels like an imposter in her own field. 

She knows she isn’t actually, though, if she looks at it objectively. The Chancellor himself had said it -- she has an exemplary record, an unmatched rate of operation success. She’s one of the best in her field, if not  _ the _ best. She is now the Agent Commander, in charge of all Republic Intelligence Agents operating in the field, effective immediately as a result of this new war. There is no one better suited, according to the Chancellor.

Yet, as she enters the room where she is to be briefed by Obi-Wan, she still feels nervous. She shouldn’t. She absolutely shouldn’t. Obi-Wan has seen her at her worst, an eighteen year old prostitute from Tatooine who was desperate for a shower and some warm clothes. This would be--

“Master Kenobi,” she blurts, horrified that her mind has been so busy that she hasn’t even realised she’s arrived in the room, where she has apparently interrupted something. “Master Windu,” she remarks, giving a polite bow between the two Jedi. “I can come back if you’d prefer--”

“No need,” Master Windu says, giving her a nod of acknowledgement. “I have my own business to attend to.” He nods to Obi-Wan. “Just think about it,” is all he says to the fellow Jedi before leaving the room, the doors sliding closed behind him.

The two are now alone, finally getting some time to get a good look at eachother. Obi-Wan has only been away for a short time, but it shows. His face is tired, and it’s apparent that it’s been a while since he’s had his beard trimmed or his hair cut. He finally gives her a smile. “So,” he begins, crossing his arms, “is the Agent Commander required to dress so impeccably, or do you consider this little reunion to be a special occasion?” The smile turns into a grin, throwing all sense of protocol between them out the window.

She exhales, a laugh following. “A bit of both,” she admits, taking a few more steps into the room, not wanting to linger by the doorway anymore. “Good to see you in one piece.”

“And it’s good to see you with a rank that fits you,” he replies, moving to take a seat in one of the plush lounge chairs in the room, gesturing for her to do the same. “I’m glad you’ve decided to work with me. I have a sneaking suspicion we’ll work well together.”

“Actually,” she begins, easing down into the seat across from him, “Supreme Chancellor Palpatine assigned me to you specifically.”

“Did he, now?” The Jedi raises an eyebrow at this momentarily, but eventually shrugs it off. “If that’s the kind of privilege that giving a simple recommendation gives me, perhaps I should do it more often,” he says with a smirk, a playful smugness in his voice. “Well, as far as a briefing goes, I’m afraid I’ve come up rather short,” he explains. “The majority of your assignments will be given to you in the field, I imagine. I can’t pretend to foresee exactly what we’ll need, but I can make an educated guess that you’ll be doing your fair share of message intercepting and information carrying.” He pauses. “Watching you work with Anakin will be interesting.”

She inhales sharply. She didn’t consider that. Of course she’ll have to work with Anakin. “Yeah. Really interesting.”

“Oh?” He asks, waiting for her to explain.

Keeasi brings her hand to her face, gently pinching the bridge of her nose. “I was sent to Naboo to deliver some correspondence from the Chancellor while Senator Amidala was in hiding,” she recalls. “Anakin wasn’t happy to see me at all.”

“I hope he didn’t bother you too much,” Obi-Wan says, his voice lowering, leaning forward. “I assure you, he does mean well, though.” There’s a silence that follows. Maybe Obi-Wan expects her to reply with another quip, or to argue, but she has nothing to come back with. Instead, Keeasi just casts her gaze aside, wanting to avoid it. “...I’m getting the feeling there’s more to this.”

She quickly blinks, realizing she’s absolutely betrayed her avoidance of the subject. “He uh. He seemed to think you or the council had sent me.”

“I see.” His face has shifted into a frown now. “Anakin has… always struggled with others’ perceptions of him.”

“I um.” Keeasi figures this is as good a time as any. “He had me cornered and I didn’t think he was going to accept any other explanation, so I  _ might _ have told him that you’d asked me to check in on him as a favour -- along with my actual mission to deliver the data, of course.” She pauses. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologise. It seems like you did what was best for the situation, I can’t fault you on that. Especially given how Anakin…” he trails off, obviously disappointed. “I apologise for his actions. That’s not how I trained him. Thank you for telling me about this.”

It’s Keeasi shaking her head now. “No, you’re the last person I’d blame for that,” she assures him. As much as she’d like Anakin to receive some kind of reprimand, she doesn’t want Obi-Wan to dig too into it. She was specifically ordered to not tell him about Anakin and Padme. She can’t risk it. “He’s young. It’s all forgiven.” She can see that Obi-Wan is not happy with her solution. “Tell me about Genosis,” she says quickly, changing the subject. “I need to pack. What’s it like?”

“Hot, dry, dusty,” he replies. 

“Excellent. Just like Tatooine.” Her voice is dripping with sarcasm, and it manages to finally get another smile out of the Jedi.

“Yes,” he agrees. “Just like old times.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLONE WARS TIME YEEAHHBOOOIIIIIIIII [distant but aggressive clone wars theme]


	6. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN: Sexual content, intimate violence.  
> \--

She’s on top of him, her hands on his chest, gently cooing his name. The room is dark, and the only thing illuminating her skin is the moonlight pouring through his window. It’s enough light for her to see his face -- and judging by the expression, he has no idea that she’s just going through the motions, waiting for the opportune time to download everything from the holo-watch on his nightstand into a datacube. “Lateeg,” she sighs, tossing her head back and taking the opportunity to get a good look at the skylight above her. No sensors, no activity on the roof to indicate it’s guarded by droids. Just moonlight. Good to know in case things sideways. 

It’s then that his terminal starts beeping. He’s getting a call. Annoying, usually, but she can’t risk him getting distracted. “Ignore it,” she whispers, leaning down and kissing his jaw where the ear and neck meet. It rings out. Crisis averted. 

He’s getting closer. Soon he’ll be done and passed out, and Keeasi can download the data and get out of there. She’ll never have to see Lateeg or his gross seperatist friends again and she can get back to base for the first time in two weeks since arriving at this Casino Resort. 

The terminal starts beeping again. Damnit. This time, it actually catches his attention. “I’m sorry, pet,” he exhales, his gaze moving to the flashing comms terminal by the doorway of his suite’s bedroom. “It might be important.”

“Shhh,” she leans down and places a finger on his lips. “It’s after hours. If it’s that important, they can send someone.”

He considers it for a moment, but shakes his head. “At this time of night it could be my boss.” He moves her hand away. No. No, no, _no!_ It’s taken two weeks for her to get this clown into bed. “I’m sorry, Janessi.”

Lateeg rolls out from under her, leaving the bed and making his way to the comms terminal, placing the receiver to his ear. “Hello?” Audio only, thank god. Keeasi glances at the holo-watch on the nightstand. He’s not paying attention at all right now, and by the sounds of his end of the conversation, it’s urgent. If this is a callout, he’ll need to leave. She has to get this data. 

She reaches out and snatches it from the nightstand, quickly shoving it into her purse, which has fallen on the floor. She can hear him talking about being somewhere in five minutes. If he asks about the watch, she can play it off as having fallen under the bed or something. 

“Janessi,” he finally says, putting the receiver back in its place and scrambling to gather his clothes from the floor. “There’s been an incident. I gotta go.” 

She softens her face. “What’s wrong?” She asks. “Is everything alright?” 

“Someone’s…” he gives a grunt as he pulls his pants on, “breached security and there’s been a…” another pause as he pulls his boots on, “explosion by the reactor. We might lose--” suddenly, the few lights illuminating outside his hallway power down, as does the comms terminal. “...Power.” He rushes over to the other side of the bed -- where Keeasi is -- and grabs his shirt. “Reckon’ those Republic _Rats_ have got in.”

Sirens begin to go off, the red flashing of alarms spilling in from outside. Oh no. This has officially gone sideways. “They aren’t gonna get in here, are they?” She asks, her eyes wide, putting on her best performance to try and make him forget that watch. 

Having put on his jacket, he pauses, reaching down to cup the side of her face. “Oh, no, sweety,” he cooes, “‘course not. I’d never let them get in here. ‘Sides,” he continues, “Lower two levels are swarming with droids. There’s no way they could get in or out of here in one piece. I’d even bet my--” he turns to the nightstand and freezes. 

This is bad. 

“You’d bet what?” Keeasi asks, reaching up to gently place her hand on his arm. 

“...Where’s my watch?” He asks. 

She shrugs. “I haven’t seen it. Maybe it fell off the nightstand during… you know.” 

Lateeg releases her, scrambling down to the floor. “I need that watch,” he exclaims, shoving the nightstand aside. “It’s got my life on it! Dooku’ll kill me himself if I lose it. No, no, no!”

“Honey, it’s ok,” she assures him. “You go deal with this and I’ll have a look for it. It’s probably fallen behind the bed,” she pauses to chuckle. “You did go pretty hard--”

Keeasi falls silent. He’s holding her purse. 

Lateeg looks to Keeasi, then to the purse. He can probably already feel the watch in it. She curses herself for not bringing something with a solid shell. Keeasi mentally maps out where her blaster is -- in her jacket, on the chair by the desk, which is near the other side of the bed. 

He doesn’t even open the purse, lunging at her. Keeasi does her best to get away, but he delivers a swift blow to the side of her face before she can even turn herself away. “You _Rat!_ ” he roars. She reaches out to try and grab the edge of the bed to pull herself away, but he quickly pins her to the bed, his hand coming down on her throat. “Should’ve known!” He shouts as he presses down, cutting off Keeasi’s air. “Should’ve _goddamn_ known!”

The order of what happens next is a bit hard for Keeasi to work out. She’s not sure if she hears the smashing of the glass or feels the two extra bodies hit the bed next. After that, though, she can breathe again, gasping for air and dragging herself away as Lateeg’s body sags down beside her. She wants to scream, but she needs a second to find enough air to do that -- and something else touches her head first, causing her to flinch.  
  


“Keeasi, are you alright?” A familiar voice asks as she catches her breath and pulls up the bedsheet to cover herself. Obi-Wan is crouched beside her on the bed, Anakin jumping off the end of it and pulling Lateeg’s body to the floor. 

She takes an extra second, her voice croaky when she finally speaks. “You said you’d give me a signal if you were--” she coughs. “If you were extracting me!”

“And _you_ said you wouldn’t get hurt,” Obi-Wan argues. 

“Do you have the data?” Anakin asks. Keeasi nods and points to the purse, which Lateeg has left on the nightstand. Anakin immediately seizes it, opening the purse and taking the watch, before shoving the watch into his cloak. “We have to go.”

“Did you kill him?” Keeasi croaks, eyeing the body on the floor. 

“No, just knocked him out,” Anakin replies, looking out of the window. “How quickly can you get dressed?” He asks. 

She looks around the room, eyeing all of her scattered clothes. “Uh… five minutes?” 

“Too long,” he declares, moving to the bedroom door and peeking out of the gap. “We can come back for--”

“Here,” Obi-Wan cuts Anakin off, removing his cloak and draping it over Keeasi’s shoulders. “This should do the trick.” She barely has time to finish with the ties before he all but lifts her off the bed and on to the floor. “Blaster? You’ll need it.” 

Keeasi quickly moves to her jacket, taking her blaster from the inside pocket before an explosion from outside rocks the entire building. Anakin kicks the doors open and the three of them break into a run through the apartment-suite, heading through the main doors and cutting down a droid as they pass. They’ve already sent someone for Lateeg. That’s a very, very bad sign. 

“What’s going on out there?!” She shouts over the alarms and sirens as they sprint down the halls of the resort.

“There was an accident,” Obi-Wan calls back.

They sprint through the halls, Obi-Wan slicing through another security droid as they turn a sharp corner. “An _accident?!_ ” Keeasi repeats. “The target said the _reactor_ exploded!”

“That _was_ the accident!” He reaches out and wraps his arm around her shoulders, steering her around another sharp turn and bringing her to the elevators. “Are they operational?” He asks Anakin, who’s attempting to operate the datapad control. 

He nods. “Looks like they run on auxiliary power.”

“Wait!” Keeasi interrupts. “There’s droids on the lower two levels. Lots of them.”

The Jedi look to each other. “How many?” Anakin asks.

“The target used the word ‘swarming,’ so I’m guessing there’s more than three.”

She watches the two Jedi glance between each other, before Anakin exhales. “Well, we need another way out, then,” he says decisively before looking to Keeasi. “Is there another exit?” He asks her. She’s a little shocked. This is probably the first time he’s ever actually asked her for any kind of direction.

“There’s a pool, down by the north elevators,” she explains, pointing further down the hall. “It’s outside, but the only issue is that it looks over the cliffs. Climbing down isn’t going to be easy.”

“We’ll just have to find a way, then,” Obi-Wan concludes, reaching out once more to guide her around the corner to the north hallway, following Anakin. There’s the sound of blaster fire coming from outside. There must be Troopers down there already. 

Another explosion, this one rocking the building. _“Second reactor down!”_ Shouts a voice from the Jedi’s commlinks. Keeasi has learned a little bit during this mission about how many reactors are under the resort -- which acts as a cover for a droid production base -- but she’s not sure how close to the actual resort they are. 

They turn a corner and immediately encounter a group of four oncoming droids. Keeasi reactively reaches out with her blaster, firing and taking down one droid as Anakin reflects the offensive shots back at the others. Obi-Wan steps in front of her, joining the fray and beginning to reflect shots himself as Anakin lunges ahead, cutting the remaining two down. “Come on,” the older of the two shouts, grabbing Keeasi by the arm this time and almost dragging her along as they break into a sprint again. 

“Wait!” Keeasi shouts, coming to a stop and having to forcibly pull herself away from Obi-Wan’s grip on her arm. “There!” She calls as the others come to a stop, aiming her blaster at the floor-length window that displays the pool area. Keeasi fires a shot into the window, expecting it to shatter -- however, it does not, the shot instead scorching the surface. A little red faced, she eyes a tall, metallic, decorative vase in the hall by one of the floor-maps. That should work. 

She moves to the vase, picking it up with a grunt and moving back to the window. Obi-Wan stares at her with confusion. “What are you--” Keeasi cuts him off with a cry as she strains to lift it, throwing it against the window. With a loud crash, it shatters, Keeasi throwing her hands above her head as the glass fragments shower down around her. “Can’t argue with that.” As Anakin steps through the now empty window frame, Obi-Wan, without a word, scoops Keeasi up in his arms to carry her. She opens her mouth to argue, but falls silent when she notices the sound of broken glass crunching under his boots. She’s barefoot. Keeasi silently admits to herself as he carries her over the threshold of the window frame that he is, if nothing else, very observant.

Once outside and clear of the glass, she fully expects him to put her back down to run on her own two feet, but another explosion roars from the building, this one followed by the sound of what she assumes is a crumbling building. Keeasi suddenly finds herself less concerned about the embarrassment that comes with being carried around by a Jedi, and more concerned with the dark plumes of smoke now emanating from the roof of the building. _“Third reactor down,”_ says the voice on the other end of the commlinks again. _“Setting charges on the core reactor now.”_

“We need an extraction,” Anakin shouts into his commlink. “North side of the building, near the cliffs!” 

_“We can’t get up there,”_ a new voice replies. _“We can land on the beach, though.”_

Anakin exhales, walking to the edge of the cliff and looking over the edge. “We can climb down,” he finally declares, waving Obi-Wan over. “It’s not too steep,” he assures Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan finally sets Keeasi down, taking a look over the edge himself. “It’s do-able,” he agrees, glancing to Keeasi. “Can you do it?”

“Yeah,” she replies with a nod. Anakin isn’t exaggerating. It’s not too steep at all, or even that far down to the sands of the beach -- but they won’t exactly be able to walk down, either. They’ll be scaling it. “I can do that.”

Obi-Wan nods to his apprentice and goes first, carefully finding his footing before beginning his descent. Anakin waits until his head is no longer visible before turning his attention to Keeasi. “You go next,” he says, all but ordering her. “I’ll cover you up here.”

Not willing to argue during a time like this, Keeasi immediately makes her way to the edge, following suite. To their advantage, the cliff face is rough and janky, making it easy enough to find footing with enough care. As she begins her descent, she looks downwards. Obi-Wan is directly beneath her. It dawns on her that he can probably see underneath the robe she’s wearing, but an enemy ship roars overhead and it suddenly seems much less important to her. 

“Go, go, go!” Anakin shouts from above, the sound of blaster fire following. Keeasi immediately tries to up the pace, but there’s only so much faster she can go. There’s another explosion -- this one so loud that Keeasi worries for the second that the entire cliff face might collapse. But it doesn’t. 

The only thing that crumbles is a chunk of the cliff face directly above her.

The next thing she knows, she can feel herself impacting the sand. Then there’s nothing for a while. Just blackness and silence. She can taste dirt in her mouth when the sound of the warfare around her returns, her vision blurry as she forces her eyes as open as she can. “Keeasi?” a familiar voice asks. There’s a grip on her shoulders. It’s gently shaking her. “Keeasi? Can you hear me?”

“...My hat…” she whines, suddenly overcome with an intense anxiety about the current state of her uniform. “Where’s my hat?”

“You weren’t wearing a hat,” he explains, carefully sliding his hand underneath her back and lifting her up until she’s in a sitting position. “I think you’re concussed. Are you in any pain?”

She blinks. “...The hat is general issue and part of uniform when off base…” She needs that hat. She has no idea why Obi-Wan won’t let her find her hat. Oh. It’s Obi-Wan. She knows him.

“ _Definitely_ concussed,” he says to himself as he begins to inspect her head. She waits in silence, trying to figure out what’s going on, but it quickly starts to come back in pieces. The escape from the resort, the broken glass, the cliff face. That was it. The cliff face gave way. She’s fallen. It’s why she can taste dirt. She was never even wearing the uniform. He comes to the top of her head and she suddenly winces in pain. “That’s going to need medical attention,” he remarks, “but you should be alright.”

Another ship flies overhead and her eyes widen with alarm. Keeasi tries to push herself up in the sand, but he stops her, holding her down as gently as he can. “Keeasi,” he says gently, calm in his voice, although Keeasi isn’t really lucid enough to discern if it’s genuine or not. 

“Anakin!” She cries. “Where’s… where’s Anakin?”

“He’s okay,” he assures her. “He met up with his Padawan and some Troopers. They’re going to finish the mission.”

“But…”

“We’re safe,” he insists. “They’re pushing the droids back.” He quickly glances around, frowning. “We just need to wait for transport. It’s on its way.” There’s another explosion from above the cliff. “Soon, I hope.”

Keeasi blinks a few more times, raising her hand to her face. Her head is spinning, and her cheek is starting to bruise from the blow it had taken beforehand. How hard had she hit her head? “What if they find us?” She asks. “The droids?”

“Then I’ll take care of it,” he replies, matter-of-factly. Even though he’s a little blurry in her vision, he catches her gaze with his. “Wouldn’t be the first time today I’ve had to protect you.”

She frowns. “I don’t need protecting,” she argues. “You should be with Anakin and the others, anyway.”

“I can’t just leave you here alone,” he insists. 

“Then you should have assigned a Trooper to be here,” she replies. 

He shrugs. “I was already down here… and besides,” he adds, something in the distance giving a loud hum. “You’re the Agent Commander -- you’re important enough to warrant an escort, I think.” He looks to the source of the noise -- Keeasi can’t see that far -- and quickly begins to rise to his feet. “Come on,” he says, leaning down to carefully yet firmly pull her off the ground. “That’s the transport.”

Keeasi is unstable on her feet, and it takes some assistance from Obi-Wan to get her to the transport ship. She doesn’t even make it up the ramp before she stops, leaning over the side to be sick. He’s right -- she’s absolutely concussed. 

As soon as they’re settled in the transport, medical droids swarm. “We must cut the hair if we are to efficiently treat this wound,” a droid remarks. Keeasi is beyond caring at this stage, all she really wants to do is sleep.

But Obi-Wan objects. “Do not under any circumstances cut her hair,” he orders. “She’s an Intelligence Agent. She needs to look her best.” She supposes this makes sense -- it’ll be hard to explain a bald patch to potential targets. She feels something cool against her scalp, and after a few seconds of stinging, the spot on her head that hurts the most becomes numb.

“What about the data?” She asks from between two medical droids. “Anakin--”

Obi-Wan steps forward, a smile on his face as he reaches into the pocket of the cloak she’s wearing -- much to her surprise. He retrieves the watch, holding it up for her to see with a look of victory on his face. “Surely you don’t think I’d allow something to damage your perfect mission record, do you?” He asks. 

She stares in silence. Maybe it’s the concussion, but Keeasi can’t figure out how that happened. He could have slid it into the cloak pocket when he was carrying her, but when did Anakin even get it to Obi-Wan? Was this some kind of sleight of hand? Surely not -- Keeasi was trained to spot that. A Jedi trick? “How?” She finally asks.

He can’t help himself, chuckling and reaching out to pat her shoulder as a droid sutures the gash in her scalp. “Anakin threw it to me while you were unconscious,” he reveals. That was it. Of course.

It's definitely the concussion.

* * *

She’s incredibly anxious about this meeting with Obi-Wan. Keeasi is on medical leave with a concussion, so technically she shouldn’t even be _having_ this meeting -- that’s not what is getting to her, though. What’s really gotten under her skin is the realisation that came as her concussion began to alleviate that Obi-Wan potentially saw her naked during that mission.

It _shouldn’t_ bother her like this. She’s an Intelligence Agent and the nature of her past missions means half of Coruscant has probably seen her naked by now. Her job is to complete her mission and obtain what’s needed by any means necessary. It’s part of her job, and she’s sure that if anyone understands that, it’s him. 

But it does bother her. The thought of it makes her antsy. It was something she was able to ignore at first, but Anakin dropped by her quarters two days ago (much to her surprise) to apologise for ‘what he saw.’ While Anakin making an apology and being so courteous was a shock, it caused her to realise that if _he_ saw her naked, Obi-Wan absolutely did, too -- and something about that makes her all kinds of uncomfortable. 

Still, though, she is the Agent Commander, they are at war, and the Supreme Chancellor has given her a job to do. Medical leave and professional nudity isn’t going to stop her, and she has to keep reminding herself that when Obi-Wan finally arrives in her quarters. 

“I’m breaking all sorts of rules by being here,” he announces as he enters. “Consider this a favour.”

“What?” She asks. “Is being in my room against the Jedi code?”

He shrugs. “ _That_ depends on who you ask. What’s more concerning, however, is being an accessory to you working during medical leave.” She rolls her eyes at this. Always with the lectures. “You’re meant to be resting.”

She gestures for him to follow her. The quarters she’s been assigned are modest, but they’re her private space. There’s enough room for a pretty generous double bed, a desk, a small dining table and a kitchenette. It’s like a very small, one person studio apartment, which is a luxury that’s honestly reserved for people of her rank and command. “Can’t rest,” she replies, gesturing for him to sit at the dining table. The desk would be more appropriate, but it only has one chair. “We’re at war, in case you forgot.”

“And you’re hardly of any use if you aren’t in good health,” he argues. “Keeasi, you fell off a cliff--”

“Please,” she interrupts, dropping her palms against the surface of the table as she sits with just enough force that it emphasises her point. “Just tell me what you got from the data. I spent weeks shacked up with that slimeball, the least you can do is tell me if it was worth it or not.” She holds his gaze as she says this. She can tell he wants to argue the point with her, but she knows him well enough to know he’s much too empathetic to deny her this kind of closure. “Was is helpful or not?” She asks.

He finally relents, exhaling. “It was very helpful, yes,” he admits. “Thanks to your efforts, we now have a cache of Seperatist communication data that we can bug into. He also had some very detailed information about their droid production facilities, and…” he stops himself. “Well, some of the information is certainly going to give us an upper hand.”

“Upper hand?” She asks, suddenly beaming. That’s absolutely Kenobi-speak for ‘potentially war ending information.’ “Come on.”

“No,” he replies, shaking his head and crossing his arms. “I’m not telling you anything more until you’re off medical leave--”

Keeasi has already had enough of this. It’s time to end it. She suddenly reaches across the table, taking one of his hands in hers. “Please, Obi-Wan,” she pleads, softening her expression. “Just this once? So I can sleep a little easier?” She gives his hands a squeeze, holding his gaze, looking at him as though her whole world depends on her. As if he's her only hope. 

For a second, Keeasi thinks it might have worked -- but he soon chuckles, shaking his head. “If I didn’t know you so well, you might have had me there for a second, I’ll admit,” he says, snatching his hand back. “I’d be insulted if anyone less talented tried that on me.”

Keeasi’s expression completely falters into a scowl and she throws her head back in frustration. It was worth a shot, at least, and she really thought she had him for a second. “Come _on_ Kenobi!” She groans. “I’d never withhold this kind of information from you!”

“You withhold information from me all the time!” He replies with a shocked laugh. “It’s part of your job.”

“That’s not the point!” She closes her eyes and inhales. Technically, he’s right, she’s absolutely aware of that. She’s still on the tail end of a concussion, and she’ll be of little use on the field until the bruising on her face subsides anyway. But being unable to enjoy the fruits of her labour is incredibly frustrating, and her patience is wearing thing. “You saw how hard I worked for it! I sacrificed so much! You can at least tell me as a favour for getting to see me naked.” Keeasi’s eyes open immediately, a horrible chill running over her. She should not have said that. She absolutely should _not_ have said that and she knew it before she even finished saying it. 

Obi-Wan gives a long blink, processing this. “Surely you’re not serious,” he finally says, his voice a little indignant. 

“...Ok. Sorry,” she quickly says, running a hand through her hair as she exhales, quickly wincing as she brushes over the sutured patch of scalp. “You’re right, I didn’t mean that. But my point is…” She watches his expression as he leans back into his chair. Keeasi has just lost. She leans her elbows on the table top and buries her face in her hands, giving another groan. “I don’t know what my point is anymore.”

“I’m guessing Anakin spoke to you, then?” He asks.

She keeps her face buried away in her hands. “He told you?”

“I suggested it, actually,” he replies. “I think he may have thought that you thought that he was…” he tails off, trying to find a word. “Despite his misgivings about you,” he explains, starting over again, “he recognises you’re instrumental to the war effort, and he has a moral code he must follow as a Jedi.”

Keeasi lightly drags her hands down her face, accepting there’s no way to hide how uncomfortable with this conversation she is. “That’s a start, at least,” she laughs nervously. 

“And as for me,” he begins. Keeasi quickly throws her hands up, her palms facing him.

“Don’t,” she pleads. “It’s part of my job. Let’s just leave it at that and never speak of it again.”

“I was actually going to ask you why this has made you so uncomfortable,” he explains. “As you said, it’s part of your job. I imagined you’d think nothing of it -- I didn't.”

Keeasi sharply inhales. “Wow,” she whines, “I’m meant to be the one asking difficult questions today.” She hopes he’ll say something else, but he doesn’t. She has to respond. “I’ve known you for a long time,” she finally explains. “It’s different when it’s a stranger. You never see them again. But you and Anakin…” she shrugs. “It’s different. I see you almost daily. Your opinions matter to me. I’d hate it if you saw me like that and thought different of me.”

“Opinions?” He repeats. 

“Mostly yours.”

He thinks this over, giving a nod. “I was worried I may have said or done something to make you feel uncomfortable, I’ll admit,” he explains, “but I’m glad to hear that’s not the case. I appreciate your honesty, especially given the… circumstances.”

Keeasi shrugs again. “I trust you,” she admits. “That’s why it mattered to me.”

He sits in silence for a moment, his eyes fixed on her, and she can tell he’s trying to get a read on her. “The data contained a location ping for what we think might be a separatist base and weapons cache,” he announces, Keeasi’s eyes widening in surprise. “The ping came from a communications signature we managed to match up with several high profile separatist figures,” he goes on to explain. “If we can access their communications tower, we might be able to locate the people we need to find to end this war.”

Keeasi can’t help herself, absolutely beaming. This is a huge breakthrough! “That’s incredible!” she exclaims, watching as Obi-Wan smiles himself, possibly at her reaction to the news. “If I can just deploy a small team of--”

“No,” he cuts in. “ _We_ will deploy a small team. _You_ will be here, resting until you’re cleared for field work again.”

“You?” She asks. “Kenobi, this is a job for Intelligence. It’s going to take the right operatives--”

“And we will make sure the right operatives are sent in,” he cuts in again, standing up. “Because if I catch you doing anything but resting, I’ll contact the Supreme Chancellor myself and have you recalled to Coruscant until you’re given a formal medical clearance to return to base.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would. Need I remind you again that you _fell off a cliff?_ ” He asks. “Not to mention that your target would have killed you if we hadn’t arrived when we did. I’m not convinced that self-preservation skills are your strongest suite.” He moves to leave, but pauses, reaching out to gently place his hand on her shoulder. “You’ve contributed more than enough,” he assures her. “Your job now is to rest.”

He gives her a solemn nod and leaves her room, Keeasi sitting in silence at the table. She should be angry with him -- furious, even. She should, by all means, be following him, arguing with him until she’s forceably returned to her quarters by a group of Troopers. 

But Keeasi isn’t. 

If they’re planning on sending someone to the location of that ping, that means someone in navigation and wayfinding knows the coordinates. 

There’s a lot of men on that team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! This is the first part of the re-write that involves me completely re-writing the plot, so this isn't a chapter you'll find on the other website. Woo! From here on out it's 100% stuff I'm writing as I go.
> 
> Thanks for all your support. I really love comments, even if it's just one or two words. They keep me motivated to write. <3


	7. Dealings

It’s 3am. Keeasi peeks her head around the corner from the showers. Coast is clear.

The Radar Technician she’s been seeing left about ten minutes ago. He shares a bunk with other personnel, and at this time of night, the showers are totally empty. Usually Keeasi would wait until one of them had shore leave, but she doesn’t have enough time to wait. The area of the base that houses her own quarters are too well patrolled to sneak someone in, and she can’t risk having the Radar Technician charged with fraternising -- or her plan is ruined. 

The Radar Technician leaving the men’s showers at 3am isn’t that suspicious -- but it’s extremely suspicious for Keeasi to do so. If she can just clear the area and get out of the barracks without being spotted by anyone who might ask questions, though, she’ll be fine. 

She finally makes a break for it, calmly walking down the halls, fighting the urge to quicken her pace and jog to safety. She’s pretending nothing happened, so she needs to act like nothing strange is happening. The halls are empty at this time of night, and shift-change won’t be for another hour or so. She just needs to get in to the east wing and--

“Agent Commander,” a voice says, acknowledging her from the archway that stands between her and her clear way out. 

“...Padawan Tano,” Keeasi remarks, coming to a stop just in front of the small Togruta. 

“What are you doing up so late?” She asks, crossing her arms, a little smirk on her face.

Keeasi raises her eyebrow. Bold of a Padawan -- but this is Anakin’s Padawan, and if she snitches, it’s absolutely going to get back to Kenobi. “I can ask the same of you.”

Ahsoka raises her eyebrow in turn, revealing a thermos. “Can’t sleep. Got some tea. Your turn.”

“Also can’t sleep,” she replies, mirroring the Padawan’s tone. “Took a shower.”

“In the men’s showers?” She asks.

“They’re bigger than the women’s.”

“I thought Commanders had their own.” 

A silence follows. Keeasi crosses her arms in turn, staring the Padawan down. Ashoka doesn’t so much as flinch, though. Keeasi can tell she’s been caught out, but the real question is what Ashoka thinks she’s caught the Agent Commander doing. “Are you interrogating me?” She asks. 

“Just curious,” Ashoka answers flatly. “Wasn’t aware Intelligence worked so closely with Radar Technicians.”

Keeasi’s eyes thin. That little-- “I don’t know what you’re implying,” she warns, “but I’d advise you really think about where you’re going with this.”

Ashoka smirks, waving her free hand dismissively. “Relax. I’m not gonna tell anyone.” She pauses. “As long as you bring me with you.”

“Bring you where?” Keeasi asks, feigning ignorance. 

“Wherever the location of that ping takes you.” Ahsoka takes a minute to watch Keeasi’s eyes widen. “Master Kenobi told me to keep an eye on you and make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”

Keeasi looks around, quickly reaching forward and grabbing the girl by the arm. She cries out in protest but Keeasi shushes her, quickly pulling her along through the halls and well into the east wing where her quarters are located. “Listen,” Keeasi snaps in a hushed whisper, pulling the Padawan through the doors of her quarters and waiting until the doors are closed behind them to continue. “This can potentially end the war for us. I worked hard and did… things for this data that no-one would ever ask of you, and I’m not gonna--”

“Like I said,” Ahsoka interrupts through gritted teeth, yanking her arm out of Keeasi’s grip. “Let me come with you and no one needs to know.”

“Are you honestly blackmailing me?” She asks, disbelief in her voice.

“Look,” Ahsoka begins, her palms raised in front of her, trying to tone things down a bit. “I’m not interested in getting you into trouble for nothing,” she explains. “This is important. And from what my Master told me, you’re probably the only one who can get in and out without someone dying.” Keeasi blinks. Anakin said that? “And isn’t your job to do things at any cost?” She asks. “Or something like that?”

Keeasi is suspicious of this, but she’s willing to hear this kid out. “Why do you wanna come with me, then?” She asks. “It’s going to be dangerous.”

“Exactly. You need someone to help you if things get bad,” she explains. “I have clearance to requisition a couple of Troopers for ‘training purposes.’ A small unit should be enough to get in, get that data and get back out, right?”

She thinks this over. It’s alarming that a Padawan of all people is willing to break the rules like this -- but she has to admit that she admires her moxxy. “...You should think about going into Intelligence one day,” she finally relents, exhaling. “Not a word about this to anyone, understand? If we get busted, we’re in trouble. And I can guarantee you’ll be worse off than I will.”

“Of course.” She gives a wink. “No risk without reward, right?” She turns to leave, pausing as the doors open. “Master Kenobi will probably drop by soon. If I noticed your boyfriend, he definitely will.”

\--

That Padawan is smarter than Keeasi thought. Sure enough, the next day, there’s beep at her Quarters’ comm’s terminal. She barely has a second to hide the documents about the ping she’s managed to obtain before Obi-Wan storms in. “I know what you’re up to,” he announces. 

“What?” She asks, picking up her cup of tea up from her desk. “Lucky I had pants on before you stormed in here--”

“Don’t give me that,” he insists. “A Radar Technician, really?” He asks. “You must think me a fool.”

Keeasi leans back into her seat as he comes to stand in front of her desk, his arms crossed. “You’re joking, right?” She asks. “You’ve come in here to tell me off for having a friend? I’m allowed to have friends.”

For the first time in the entirety of their relationship, Keeasi witnesses Obi-Wan roll his eyes -- or at least do something incredibly close, anyway. “Please,” he exhales, “spare me. He was bragging to half the communications team, Keeasi.” Shit. Of course he would. Apparently the threat of marshalling wasn’t enough to keep the Technician’s mouth shut. 

She gives a dramatic shrug, placing her mug back down. She hasn’t even drank any of the tea. “Fine. Fine! You caught me fraternising. Ok. You win.” She shakes her head. “It’s a stressful job. I just wanted to blow off some steam.”

She watches him carefully. Obi-Wan is not buying it. “If you wanted to have fun, you would not do so with a Radar Technician.” 

“Excuse me?”

“I know what you’re like,” he argues. “He’s not nearly risky enough to keep you interested.”

Genuinely insulted, she straightens up in her seat, giving an indignant laugh. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you were my keeper.”

“I’m not,” he replies, “I just know you better than that. Whatever scheme this is part of stops now.”

“I’ll remind you,” she begins, anger bubbling inside her as she rises from her seat to be face-to-face with the Jedi, “that I am the Agent Commander of Republic Intelligence, and I do not take orders from you!”

He laughs at this. “Oh, believe me, I am well aware that you don’t take orders from me, let alone listen to me. But I’ll absolutely be making the Supreme Chancellor aware of this.”

“What?” She asks, “You’re going to bother the Chancellor with gossip about me having a boyfriend?” She pauses, anger totally overcoming her. “Kenobi, are you jealous?”

“I’m not even dignifying that with an answer.”

“Then why are you so bothered by this?” She asks. “Why is this any of your business?”

“Because it’s not like you,” he insists. 

Keeasi crosses her arms. “You have absolutely no idea how I conduct my personal life.”

Obi-Wan shifts on his feet a little, locking eyes with her. “What’s his name?”

She freezes. “Excuse me?”

“What,” he stresses, “is his name?” Keeasi’s stomach lurches. She… she genuinely has no idea. She’s sure he told her, probably a couple of times, too. But she was still concussed at the time, and she was more preoccupied with staying a step ahead. “I’ll wait,” Obi-Wan says, watching her. Keeasi tries her best to recall saying it, hearing it, anything, but she’d been lazy and fallen on her old tricks -- calling him ‘baby,’ ‘honey…’ 

“...Kenobi, I--”

  
“That’s what I thought,” he says over the top of her. He knows he’s caught her, and it’s plainly obvious to her. The best she can do now is backpedal, but before she can even begin, he turns his back on her. “His name was Tann, by the way, in case you were wondering,” he says, before storming out of her room. 

Keeasi drops back into her seat as the doors close, dumbfounded. How could she be so sloppy? It’s usually her rule number one -- map the target’s identity -- but she was so anxious to get the information, and so preoccupied with what was at stake that… she exhales, opening the draw she’d hidden the documents in. It’s cost her some dignity, and there’ll be rumours for a while, and she might even get marshalled -- but the Radar Technician had come through for her, letting it slip that he has shore leave after this next mission involving Falleen in the Mid Rim. 

She has to act fast, before Obi-Wan acts on his threats and contacts the Chancellor. Not that she thinks he’ll mind -- after all, she’s got results in the past without any help from the Jedi -- but she doesn’t need any more red tape in her way. 

Keeasi picks up her commlink and sends Ahsoka a ping. It’s time to move.

* * *

The plan would be simple if not for Ahsoka, honestly. Despite being on ‘medical leave,’ Keeasi is still the Agent Commander and can still pull rank, but Ahsoka isn’t really meant to be going anywhere without the approval of Anakin -- and there is absolutely no way he would approve of this mission.

To avoid detecting, Keeasi has had to harken back to her roots -- a supply container. Ahsoka hid in the thing about thirty minutes ago, and Keeasi has arrived with the four Troopers the Padawan requisitioned to collect the ‘supply drop.’ They don’t need to know she’s in there just yet. That’s a later problem. “Alright,” she says, watching as the four load the container into the transport ship. “This is going to be a quick one.”

“Sorry, what mission is this for, Agent Commander?” Asks a nearby bay-manager, checking through his datapad. “I don’t see anything scheduled…”

“Intelligence business,” she replies bluntly, watching as the Troopers finish loading the container. “That’s all you need to know.” 

She shoots him a cautionary look, watching as he lowers the datapad. “Of course, Agent Commander. I’ll ready the bay for launch.”

She gives the bay-manager an affirmative nod before making her own way up the entry ramp of the transport, settling in with the Troopers on board and preparing for launch. Once they’re far enough from the base, Keeasi can let Ahsoka out, brief the Troopers, and get this underway. 

“I didn’t know we had anyone on Falleen,” one of the Troopers remarks after about forty minutes, breaking the silence, looking at the large container in the middle of the cargo area. 

Keeasi checks the cargo area’s terminal. They’re far enough to be safe, now. “We don’t,” she declares, moving to the container and beginning to unfasten the restraints that are holding the container shut. “Everyone at attention. It’s time for a quick briefing.” 

The three Troopers gather around, watching as she takes her time with the container. One remains in the cockpit, piloting the transport -- but she supposes that’s going to be his main responsibility, anyway. “This isn’t a supply drop?” One asks.

“We’ve been made aware of a potential base or hub on Falleen,” she explains, reaching up to unclasp one of the hooks of the container. They really strapped this thing down. Better safe than sorry, though. “Hidden in the rainforest. The vegetation is so thick we haven’t been able to get a read on it by our usual means.” She pauses to look at the Troopers, who are all surprised, but still listening intently. “One of the pings from the base matches with several data-pings we’ve managed to collect in the past from high priority targets. We need to get in, mine what data we can, and get out,” she explains. “The quieter the better. If we do this right,” she says, pausing to triumphantly release the last of the restraints before turning her full attention back to the Troopers, aware of the sound of the container opening behind her, “Ahsoka and I should be able to retrieve the data without alerting the enemy. Consider this a stealth mission. Your job is to cover our entry point and keep guard, providing support if we need it.” Keeasi smiles, looking towards each Trooper. “Any questions?”

“Yeah, just one,” one of the Troopers asks. “Is he providing support with us, or you?”

He? She frowns. “Wha--” Keeasi follows the Trooper’s line of sight behind her and to the container. The lid is open, and instead of Ashoka, the face glaring back at her is not the ambitious Padawan she expects. 

“Agent Commander Denn,” Obi-Wan Kenobi begins, pausing to (she assumes) take in the way her expression entirely sinks. “I believe we need to have a discussion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one because the next one will probably be a little long ;)


	8. Impact

Obi-Wan paces about the war room, Keeasi standing by her holo-maps with her arms crossed. It’s just the two of them -- he’s spared her the embarrassment of chewing her out in front of the Troopers, at least.

“I guess Ahsoka’s not going to pop out of that supply container, is she?” Keeasi finally says, trying desperately to break the silence. She may as well let it happen, rip this off like a bandaid. 

“No,” he replies. “She’s back on base, where _you_ should be.”

“How did you even catch us?” She asks. 

He comes to a stop on the other side of the war table. “Ahsoka requisitioned a supply container and four Troopers for a ‘training’ exercise. As ambitious as she is, she’s hardly an Intelligence operative.”

Keeasi closes her eyes and exhales. “She talked, didn’t she?”

“Once she realised how much trouble she was in,” he replies with a nod. “Did you honestly think you could sneak this by?” 

Keeasi shrugs, gazing at the maps she’s worked so hard to obtain. It’s all in front of her, everything she’s tried to put together. Now she’s unsure if she’ll ever get to see it come to fruition. “I don’t know. But it was worth a shot.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “When we get back to base, I’m immediately requesting that the rest of your leave is carried out on Coruscant, where you _can’t_ work like this.” 

“Don’t take us back,” she asks. “We’ve come this far--”

“We are returning to base and that is final,” he replies firmly. She can feel a wave of adrenaline ash over her. He means it. It’s over. All that work for nothing. All her time and effort, wasted, her expertise thrown to the side by some _idiot_ who thinks he knows what’s best for her. “To be frank, I don’t think your antics have put you in a position for any kind of negotiati--”

“Obi-Wan, please!” Keeasi shouts, slamming her hands down on the war-table with enough force to cause the holo-maps to flicker. It takes him by surprise, completely cutting him off. There’s no point in being professional now, not at this point. “I promise that after this you can send me to whatever planet you want, have me court marshalled, even put me on a transport to Tatooine for all I care,” she continues to shout. “But just let me do this! This can change everything.”

“I don’t know how many times I need to tell you that we will be sending--”

“A unit of random Troopers and Jedi?” She asks. “You might be handy on the front line, but _none_ of you could hack your way out of a paper bag and you know it. Unless you want to send in a full scale invasion party and basically _announce_ what we’re doing, you need someone who knows what they’re doing with a Seperatist data compiler system. All my best Agents are out on assignment -- which you’d know if you ever even bothered to ask me -- which leaves _me,_ Kenobi.” She bangs on the table again. “And I am not going to sit by and watch you and some Troopers who can hardly operate a datapad undo the _months_ of recon I’ve done to get us to this point because you think I’m some damsel who needs to be rescued all the time!”

She finally stops, waiting for him to argue back as he usually does, but something about the way he’s looking at her takes her by surprise. He doesn’t look angry or disappointed with her outburst. He looks… kind of sad. And it’s then she feels something tickling the skin of her cheek. Keeasi reaches up to scratch at the itch, quickly becoming mortified to learn it’s a tear. She’s been crying in frustration. 

“You’re emotionally compromised,” He finally says, speaking hesitantly, his voice softening.

“I know I am!” She snaps, turning her face away for a second to wipe away the remaining tears. She tries to push away the feeling of humiliating that’s settling in. 

“As am I,” he declares with a long exhale. Before Keeasi can ask what that means, he steps towards the maps. “Where’s the drop point?” He asks, reaching out and expanding one of the maps. “Those tree canopies might make it hard for an extraction.”

She blinks in confusion. “Uh… right near that rock formation,” she answers. 

“Good. Should provide a landing point. What’s your loadout looking like?”

She watches him in silence for a second before speaking carefully. “I... I can go?” she asks

“Yes,” he replies, pausing to point at her. “But don’t think this means I’m letting you off the hook,” he warns. “I will absolutely be writing a full report to the Chancellor when this is over and done with.”

She considers thanking him for this sudden change of heart. Maybe it’s an act of mercy? Instead, Keeasi simply smiles, quickly expanding some extra maps related to the mission. She’s going to need to brief him, after all. “Of course,” she responds. She takes a second to ground herself. “I guess I should brief you,” she offers.

“Go ahead.”

She closes all the other maps, including the ones he’s been looking at, expanding a diagram of a building. It resembles a warehouse more than anything, but it has about three stories to it. “This is what we’re investigating,” she explains, letting him take in the visuals. “I wasn’t totally sure about what it was at first, but then I spotted this,” she says, pointing to a small tower extending off the top of the structure. “If it’s a communications and control tower -- which I’m pretty sure it is -- this is either a base or a covert transit hub. The vegetation of this area is rainforest, and it’s incredibly dense, making it close to impossible for our usuual scanning methods to pick up.”

He nods. “Perfect place to hide something.”

“Exactly,” she agrees. “Our mission is to get in, get what data we can from their compiler, and then get back out as quickly and quietly as possible. Neutralize enemies on sight before they can raise an alarm. This is a stealth mission, and we want them to keep operating after we’re out of here so we can get a steady feed of ongoing data into the future and plan based off of those findings.”

“Very professional, Keeasi,” he suddenly jokes with a smirk. She pauses to stare at him for a moment, before shaking her head and returning her attention back to the data, expanding a new map with a broader view of the area.

“We’ll be landing here,” she begins, ignoring him and pointing to the rock formation from before. “Two Troopers will remain stationed with the ship, two will accompany us as close as we can get them to the building without being identified. Once we get close enough, we’ll leave them to keep guard on the entry point to the building that we establish.”

“Right, and when we get into the building?” He asks. 

Keeasi purses her lips. “That’s where your… _surprise_ has thrown a spanner in things,” she replies. “I _did_ have disguises planned out for myself and Ahsoka, but unless you think you can squeeze into her size of janitorial uniform?” Keeasi shakes her head. “We have a problem. And even then…” she trails off, an idea coming to her. “I can always arrest you.” This is meant with silence on Kenobi’s end, who merely waits for her to explain. “My disguise,” she starts, the pacing of her words speeding up as she flicks through some files before opening a sketch of a woman in a uniform, “is a CIS Officer uniform.”

“Where did you obtain this?” He asks.

She shrugs. “Let’s just say it fell off the back of a truck.”

“Keeasi, humanoid CIS Officers are incredibly rare on the field,” he explains. “Won’t that raise an alarm?”

“The opposite, actually,” she replies with a smirk. It’s a little refreshing to catch him being wrong about something. “The rarity means that when they do show up on the field, they’re not very familiar. Your run of the mill Droids tend to be pretty faceblind as well,” she goes on to explain. “They see ‘humanoid,’ ‘female’ and ‘Officer’s Uniform’ and decide it’s close enough.”

“And you’re sure this will work?” He asks, a hint of hesitation in his voice. 

“I’ve passed as Officer Trim Kishorii twice now without any problems,” she assures him. “As long as we get out of there before anyone notices she’s meant to be on maternity leave, we’ll be fine.”

He nods along. “And if it doesn’t work?” He asks.

She presses a button, shutting off the maps, locking eyes with him. “Then you get to do your favorite thing,” she replies. 

“What would that be?”

“Rescue me.”

* * *

“So remind me again,” he asks, slicing through more thick vine as the two of them close in on the building. They’d left the Two Troopers behind not far back, and it’s on them to close the last of the distance. “How did I come to be under arrest?”

Keeasi doesn’t respond immediately, taking a second to step over a wayward log. “I’m here to do a routine perimeter analysis for potential expansion,” she says, “and I found you snooping around. I disarmed you and arrested you.”

She chuckles at this. “Almost believable,” he remarks.

“What is?” She asks.

“That you could disarm me,” he replies, glancing back to her with a shrug as she waves a bug away from her face.

Keeasi is tempted to argue this with him -- Obi-Wan is combat trained and could absolutely best her in an actual fight, but Keeasi has been trained her entire career to neutralise threats _before_ combat can break out. However, something rustles ahead and catches her attention. “Droids,” she whispers, reaching out to grab him by the sleeve. “Give me your lightsaber.” He hesitates, but she extends her hand, waiting. 

He relents, passing it to her. “Just don’t go playing with it,” he warns.

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, because that’s where my priorities are right now.” She slides the lightsaber into a slot on her belt, also removing a small length of cord. “Hands,” she orders, waiting for him to place them behind his back before very loosely binding them together. “You should be able to slide out of this,” Keeasi assures him, before gently tapping on his back. “Go on.”

Obi-Wan frowns, beginning to walk in front of her as they close the final distance between the jungle and the building. The Droid notice them quickly, immediately arming. “Stop!” One orders. “Identify yourself!”

Keeasi reaches into her breast pocket, removing her counterfeit identification and holding it up for the Droids to see. “Officer Trim Kishorii,” she announces. “Here to process a prisoner.”

“Roger roger,” says one of the Droids in affirmative. As Keeasi and Obi-Wan come to a stop in front of them, waiting for approval to pass, one of the droids visibly flinches. “A Jedi?!” 

“It would appear that way,” she replies. 

“You arrested a _Jedi?!_ ” The Droid asks again.

Keeasi is a bit taken aback by this kind of questioning, but she’s well aware of how to handle it. “Yes, and if you don’t get out of my way, I’ll have _you_ turned into a--”

“Roger roger!” The Droids reply, not even letting her finish making her threat, stepping aside and allowing her to walk her ‘prisoner’ up the nearby ramp and into the building. 

A blaster in one hand, Obi-Wan’s wrist in her other, she starts to make her way around the… well, it could be anything, really. Judging by the amount of B1 Droids clanking around, it’s _some_ kind of facility -- but it’s purpose is hard to establish without exploring. Keeasi tries to casually peer through doorways and windows as she passes, but nothing seems to be giving anything away, at least on this floor. “You,” she snaps, coming to a stop and pointing to another B1 as it passes. “Where’s your comms centre?” She asks. “I’ve got an incredibly important message that I need to deliver immediately.” 

“Uhhh…” the B1 stares at her, or at least does the Droid equivalent of staring blankly. “Are you new?”

“Have you been programmed to ask stupid questions?” She all but hisses at the Droid. “Officers tour and they tour often. Now, tell me, where is the comms centre in this facility?”

The Droid, as the others did, flinches at her firmness. “Roger roger, Ma’am!” It quickly says, pivoting a little. “I’ll show you the way!” She considers refusing this offer, not wanting to have to deal with a Droid, but having a Droid escorting her along will definitely lend legitimacy to the act. She gives Obi-Wan a quick glance before pushing him to follow the Droid, who is somewhat enthusiastically clanking its way down one of the halls. 

Keeasi tries to keep track of where they’re going in her mind, realising that the Droid is taking them deep into the building. What’s deeply worrying is that even after all this walking, Keeasi still has no idea what the building’s purpose is. Eventually, though, the Droid brings them up a flight of stairs and through a set of double doors into what Keeasi is pretty confident is the comms centre. The room is staffed by about four B1 Droids, all of whom immediately turn to stare at Keeasi and Obi-Wan. 

She takes a deep breath, quickly thinking this over. She can feel Kenobi’s arm tense up under her grip. He’s ready to attack, but she knows she needs to get them away from the comms terminals first, or else their cover is blown. “I’ve got a prisoner to present to the General,” she announces, keeping up her character. “All of you, front and centre. Now.” She watches the Droids at the comms terminals scramble to follow her orders, before turning to the one who guided her there. “You, too.” Their guide doesn’t even hesitate this time. “I need you to watch him while I establish a signal, understand?” 

The Droids respond in the affirmative and Keeasi takes a second to wait for the doors to slide shut behind them. She steps behind Obi-Wan, pretending to re-secure his restraints, but taking the opportunity to quickly and discreetly return his lightsaber. “Keep him there,” she orders, moving past the Droids to take position behind them. “I’ll ready the channel. Be careful,” she warns, “he’s sneaky.”

Keeasi takes her position, keeping eye contact with Obi-Wan as her hand comes to rest on her blaster. She just needs to wait for the opportune moment.

 _Three_ … “You know,” says one of the Droids, who although speaking still isn’t moving. “You don’t need to set up a channel.”

 _Two_ … “Why is that?” Asks Keeasi.

 _One…_ “The General is on base, Ma’a--”

She draws her blaster and fires, Obi-Wan taking the signal and immediately drawing his lightsaber. The Droids are unprepared and too close for combat, and it takes less than a minute for the two of them to neutralise all four. 

Keeasi immediately makes her way to largest of terminals on the room -- the data compiler -- and inserts a jamming chip. “Ok,” she exhales, waiting for the compiler to give an affirmative beep before beginning to input a series of codes. “I’ve got about five minutes before their systems pick up there’s something jamming the compiler’s output,” she explains. “Watch that door.”

“Keeasi,” Obi-Wan begins, something in his voice a little off. “Which General were you referring to?” 

She shrugs, typing away at the terminal. “No idea. Usually I let them specify and go off that. Why?”

He doesn’t respond immediately, the sound of his lightsaber activating being the first thing she hears. She’ll admit -- it’s not the most comforting thing to hear. “If you can finish that as soon as humanly possible, I’d recommend it,” he finally says. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“You sure know how to put someone at ease,” she jokes, trying to play off the sinking feeling in her stomach. Her typing becomes more frantic, cracking open registry after registry to find the kind of data she’s looking for. She finds some code that isn’t exactly what she’s after, but can definitely come in handy later, and slots in a datachit to begin the download process. While that downloads, she keeps searching.

Keeasi knows it’s sheer moments, but it feels like hours as she goes through every single directory she can find, searching for keywords, phrases, data tags and types. She finally finds something -- a series of geolocation files. _That_ can definitely be mined and matched with pings. She adds them to the download queue, along with a package of data containing the encryption they use for their communications channels. “Ok,” she sighs. “I’ve got the important stuff. Just have to let it download.” 

“Good,” he responds. She turns to face him. He’s standing at the ready by the door, like he’s expecting something. She tries to not let it make her feel any more nervous than she needs to be. 

Keeasi steps back from the terminal, resisting the urge to keep working through the compiler, knowing anything else after this will just slow them down. She takes a second to look over the now unmanned comms terminals. No alarms going off, at least… but there is one repeated signal trying to get through. She moves away from the terminal for a second, taking a closer look. “Hey, Kenobi,” she begins, pressing a few buttons to expand on the signal. “Which one is…” Keeasi trails off. She knows that name. She is _very_ familiar with that name. Keeasi immediately opens her commlink to the Troopers. “Guys, we’ve got trouble. Transport team - we need the ship ready to leave ASAP. Ground team -- how’s it looking out there?” 

Silence. 

“Ground team,” she repeats, her jaw tensing. “Can you hear me? Are you able to respond?

More silence.

“Transport team? Anyone? Do you copy?”

Nothing.

“No, no, no,” she mutters to herself, moving back to the compiler terminal and checking the progress. “It’s only at 85%, no, no, no.”

“Keeasi,” Obi-Wan says, his voice calm, but taking a tone she hasn’t really heard before. It’s firm, grounded. It’s the tone of someone who knows something she doesn’t. “As soon as that’s done, I need you take cover and do everything I say,” he says. “Do you understand?”

She nods, quickly realising that he can’t see her as his focus is fixated on the doors. “Yeah,” she says, her voice shaking a little. “Yeah, I can do that.”

The next few moments are spent in complete silence, Keeasi’s eyes glued to the terminal, watching the data download. 89%... 90%...

There’s a sudden noise from outside. A bang -- or, well, more of a loud clank. God, Keeasi hopes she read the communication’s terminal wrong. She wants to be wrong so badly. 93%... 95%...

More clanking, although it sounds like tiny little clinks now. One after the other. Louder and louder.

96%... 98%...

And then there’s silence -- and it’s completely deafening, somehow worse than the clanking, broken by a tiny beep from the compiler. It’s done. 

She all but rips the datachit out of the compiler, quickly scrambling to take cover underneath one of the communications desks just as the double doors seem to blast open with the deafening sound of metal on metal. She reflexively shuts her eyes, shielding her head with her arms, the next sound she hears is the sound of lightsabers fizzling against each other.

When Keeasi opens her eyes again, the room is a mess of smoke and sparks, Obi-Wan trying to hold position and deflect an onslaught of four lightsabers at once. She knows all about General Grievous, of course. It’s part of her job to know everything about him -- but she’s never seen him in person. In that moment, she understands fully why she does what she does, why she goes to the lengths she goes to. Anything is preferable to standing in front of _that._

Grievous growls, pushing all four of his lightsabers down against Obi-Wan’s, the fizzing sound of the contact turning into a hiss. Keeasi reaches down to her belt, grabbing her blaster and not even thinking, just shooting at the side of the General to try and get his attention. He grunts as a shot makes contact, the distraction giving Obi-Wan just enough time to break out from beneath his push. The downside of giving Kenobi this opportunity to make space, though, was that it brought Grievous’ attention to Keeasi, who was currently under a desk and practically defenseless. “What is _this_?” Grievous laughs, leaping over a console to land directly in front of Keeasi.

She tries to crawl away, but one of his arms reaches under the desk and manages to grab her by the ankle with next to no effort. Keeasi grabs one of the legs of the desks, holding on to it for dear life, but she can already tell that he’ll rip her in half. She loses grip, sliding out as he pulls her completely off the floor, dangling her in front of him, upside down and by the leg, like a toy. “A spy!” he laughs. “The Jedi cannot even do their own dirty--”

Grievous cries out, a blaster shot landing directly into his eyes, causing him to drop Keeasi to the ground with a thud. Before she can even _try_ to get up, she feels herself sliding across the floor again, but this time towards Obi-Wan, who seems to wave her behind him -- where she then comes to a stop. She’s seen Jedi use the force like that before countless times, but she’s never had it used on her, and it absolutely takes her by surprise. She manages to scramble to her feet just before two lightsabers slam against Obi-Wan’s once more.

“Go!” Obi-Wan calls over his shoulder, pushing back once more. Keeasi takes a step back, feeling at her belt. She’s slowly running out of gear to use, but she has a few more tricks in her kit. 

She retrieves two small beads from a small pocket -- magnets attached by some wires -- and activates them. “Kenobi! Over your right!” She shouts, before tossing them at Grievous and quickly grabbing at Kenobi’s robe, pulling him back. Before the full force of Grievous’ lightsabers can come down, the general seizes up, letting out a roar as his limbs begin to jerk about, the magnets having locked on to his wrist. She continues to pull Kenobi away. “Come on!” She shouts. “We gotta go!”

Although he hesitates for a second, possibly to make sure it’s worked, he follows her when she breaks into a sprint out of the comms centre and down the staircase. “Do you remember where we’re going?!” He asks. 

“Sort of!” She reaches out and shoots down two Droids as they pass, taking a left that _seems_ familiar to her.

“ _Sort of?!_ ” He repeats, cutting down another.

“Would you rather still be in there?” More shots. “Besides,” she calls back, turning another sharp corner, “I don’t see you keeping track!”

A siren begins to wail in the facility, causing them to pick up the pace, dodging shots from some Droids and taking down the ones that get in their way. Keeasi turns another corner, this time skidding to a stop and slamming into the wall a little in her haste. “Look!” she shouts, pointing to the end of the hall. In the distance is a hanger. There’s a few ships in there, most of them freighters, but she can eye a couple of smaller units. “There’s out way out!”

“An enemy transport?” He asks. “Do you think we can--”

“You honestly think--” she cuts herself off, taking down another B1, “--that I’ve never stolen a transport before?”

He stops to take down a B2, Keeasi joining him to fully neutralise it. They’re sending out the heaver Droids now -- the don’t have long at all before they’re both outnumbered and overpowered.

They bolt to a nearby transport starship. It looks a little worse for wear, but it’s entry ramp is down, making it prime for the taking. Keeasi sprints inside, Obi-Wan standing at the top of the entry ramp and deflecting shots from Droids. She immediately gets on closing the ramp, waiting until she can hear it rising before taking the pilot’s seat, slamming on the main power. The terminal’s screen turns on and she feels Kenobi take the seat next to her, but she’s too focused on getting the computer to bypass the identification lock. 

Assisting, Obi-Wan gets started on the auxiliary systems. “I can’t believe they taught you how to steal ships in Intelligence,” he remarks, reaching up to turn on some of the auxiliary switches. 

“They didn’t,” she replies as she frantically inputs more override codes, trying to find at least one that works for this model of ship. “I learned this--” the ship rumbles, fully powering up. She’s done it. “--on Tatooine.”

She pulls on the throttle so hard that in any other situation, she’d be worried about breaking it, and it causes them to launch out of the port with so much force and so suddenly that they both slam back into their seats. “Check the radar!” She shouts over the roar of the engines. 

“There’s two after us,” he reports, gripping onto the seat as the ship gives a sudden dip. The engines aren’t going to be able to hold up for much longer. “Probably Vulture droids.”

She tries her best to pull the ship up. If she can get off worlds, she can probably ease up and-- the ship jolts forward, alarms going off in the cockpit. It’s taken a hit. “How’s your flying?” She asks. 

“I’m no Anakin,” he says, pressing something on his communicator. “I’ve sent a distress signal out. If you can land us safely enough to--”

She cries out as another shot slams into the ship, the alarms becoming more shrill, the sudden lurch forward causing her to slam her head against the controls in front of her. That’s not good. She groans and squeezes her eyes shut, reaching back and grabbing the safety restraints of the pilot’s seat. “We’re gonna have to crash land,” she shouts over the alarms, buckling up and watching as Obi-Wan followed suit. “Hold o--”

The ship takes another shot, and next thing Keeasi knows, she’s slamming off the throttle, trying to pull the ship up as it crashes through the thick rainforest canopy. 

A crash.

Impact.

Smoke.

Fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some actual feelings stuff next i promise.


	9. Admonition

According to Obi-Wan, he’d managed to make it through the crash without losing consciousness. Keeasi, however, was not so lucky, and he’d had to pull her out of the wreckage and carry her to this cave he’d found. How long that had taken him to find was unclear, as was how long she’d actually been out for. What Keeasi does know, however, is that whatever happened has made her incredibly unwell. She’s on her hands and knees by the outside of the cave, vomiting into a bush -- and if he ever dares to bring this up as a joke, General Grievous won’t have to kill him because Keeasi will do it herself.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” He calls to her from further inside the cave, where he has a very small fire going. 

“I’m _fine!_ ” She replies in what should sound like frustration, but really just sounds like more coughing. She fully realizes this will probably mean an extended medical leave, and it will _definitely_ mean she’ll need to go back to Coruscant, but right now she’s a little preoccupied with gathering the strength to stand up again.

She gets on her own feet and tries to take a step back, but immediately loses her footing beneath her shaky legs. To her surprise -- and, honestly, chagrin, -- instead of falling back to the stones beneath her, Obi-Wan catches her. Looks like he didn’t believe she was fine at all. “Careful,” he warns, lifting her back up -- although never really letting go of her as he leads her back into their haphazard shelter.

“Any word on an extraction?” She asks, hobbling back to the fire with him. She’s hurt her leg. It feels like a burn on the surface, but it hurts to walk, and she thinks she may have an additional tear or even a fracture.

“The trees are so dense that it’s hard to get a clear signal,” he explains, “but they’re at least returning my pings, so they’re at least _trying_ to find us.”

Keeasi lowers herself down by the fire, giving a little groan as she does so. She’s in a lot of pain, but it’s nothing she’s unable to manage. 

“What was that thing you threw before?” He asks, sitting across from her, on the other side of the fire. 

“The magnets?” She asks. “MEPs,” she replies, pausing. “Uh. Magnetized electro pulsators. Usually I use them to short out the bigger Droids, but they’ll still give a person a decent shock,” she explains. 

He nods. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen that before.”

“It’s not really standard loadout,” she explains. “I still have my contacts on Coruscant.”

There’s some silence as he uses a stick to prod at the fire. It’s not a big one -- if they create too much smoke, they risk being discovered -- but it’s enough to create some residual warmth. “How’s the leg?” He asks.

Keeasi shrugs, glancing at it. There’s no blood, but she can feel the swelling. “I’ve had worse,” she replies dismissively.

“You gave me a bit of scare,” Obi-Wan says, staring into the fire. Keeasi watches him, waiting for some kind of joke or quip -- but it never comes. Instead, he takes a second, waiting in thought, before exhaling. “I think I owe you an apology,” he finally says.

She raises an eyebrow. “Sorry?” She asks, a little confused. “For what?”

She watches him lean back a little, putting the stick down, seemingly satisfied with how the coals of the fire are arranged. “For how I’ve…” he takes a second, mulling over the words. “I believe I may have been a bit overbearing.”

He looks to her for confirmation, and although Keeasi really wants to roll her eyes and tell him how absolutely obvious this has been, she can’t bring herself to do so. Instead, she gives a polite shrug. “I mean, yeah,” she replies, downplaying it a bit. “It hasn’t been ideal.”

“We’ve had some losses,” he continues,”and it seems I may have been projecting that on to you.” Keeasi frowns as she processes this. “You’ve just been doing your job.” He exhales, and for a second, Keeasi can see a hint of genuine sadness in his eyes. Just who has he lost? They lose Troopers every day, yes, but everyone seems to have one or two they get along with especially well, even her. And there’s been a spate of Senatorial assassinations recently, too. 

“Is that what you meant when you said you were emotionally compromised?” She finally asks. Something about this conversation is making her feel… weird. It’s like anxiety mixed with embarrassment. Part of Keeasi’s job is exhibiting a faux level of vulnerability, which, in turn, allows her target to become vulnerable with her -- but something about this conversation with Obi-Wan feels like it’s… not allowed, like she’s doing something wrong or crossing some kind of line even though this isn’t her taking advantage of someone.

He eyes her for a second, and for a moment Keeasi worries he might think she’s doing just that -- taking advantage or doing something she isn’t meant to be doing. “Yes,” Obi-Wan admits. “You must understand, I’ve known you as long as I’ve known Anakin.”

“Well, there was that ten year gap,” she quickly interjects.

He nods. “True, true. But I still consider you to be an old friend, nonetheless.”

She kind of wants to question this. Ten years is a pretty long time to go without seeing someone, and while he was quite kind to her when they first met, most people wouldn’t use that small period of interaction as a qualifier for considering someone a friend. But again, there is it, that weird feeling, like she’s breaking some kind of rule by even having this discussion with him. “I’m touched,” she finally says, a small smile on her face. “Thank you.”

“As long as you stop falling off cliffs, we shouldn’t have any more problems.”

* * *

“Agent Denn, I must admit that I am at a loss for words. Remarkable. Simply remarkable,” the High Chancellor says, placing down a datapad that contains reports of Keeasi’s mission results. “You not only risked life and limb for the good of the Republic, but you risked your career, too. This data that you’ve retrieved is…” he pauses, catching her gaze and giving her a proud smile, “Agent Denn, you are truly a hero of the Republic. That is undeniable. To stare adversary in the face and truly stand for the right thing to do -- it’s a quality and bravery that is indeed rare.”

Keeasi gives a nervous laugh. She’s always accepted praise, even when it’s this… dramatic, but it’s not really how she’s imagined being told she was a ‘hero.’ She sits on the other side of the Chancellor’s desk, one leg in a brace, crutches leaning against her seat. Her face is bruised, and despite how it’s started to fade, makeup has only been able to hide so much. Even though this is a private meeting, she can’t help but feel a little embarrassed. “Thank you, Chancellor,” she says, choosing her words carefully, although unable to stop smiling. “With all due respect, the only thing that stopped me from carrying out this mission in an official capacity was--”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi?” He finishes. “Yes, I’m aware. I did receive some communications from him shortly before you undertook this mission yourself,” he explains. Keeasi’s smile drops. Kenobi had threatened to tell the Chancellor, but he never said he actually did. “I believe he wanted you to be stationed in Coruscant for the remainder of your medical leave following the first incident, when you…” the Chancellor trails off, closing his eyes and waving his hand about at the wrist, visibly trying to recall the circumstances.

“I fell off a cliff, Chancellor.”

“Fell off a cliff!” He repeats, opening his eyes and smiling. “That’s right! Yes, yes, he did seem to have concerns about your capacity to carry out your duties. However, I was so inundated with happenings in the Senate that I decided to withhold my response for another day or so -- and am I glad that I did!" He laughs. “A day earlier and you may not have had the time to make your daring little getaway.” The Chancellor pauses, leaning across the desk a little to peer at her leg, frowning. “When can I expect to have you back on the field?” He asks.

She looks at the brace. It’s a temporary measure -- there’s some procedures to be done still that should speed up the healing process, but it’s not going to be an overnight thing. “I still have some treatment to undergo, and then there’s some physical rehabilitation to follow,” she explains, “but the current timeline is anywhere between four and eight weeks, Chancellor.”

The Chancellor settles back into his seat, frowning. “Such is the cost of taking risks, I suppose,” he laments, before opening the draw of his desk and retrieving a datapad. “Nonetheless, I have an assignment for you that I believe you should be able to carry out in the meantime.” He slides the datapad over the desk, Keeasi taking it with both hands. “Something relatively simple compared to your more recent operations,” the Chancellor explains, Keeasi beginning to open the dossiers and reading through. 

There’s two dossiers on the datapad. The first one that Keeasi opens contains information regarding the Duchess of Mandalore. This doesn’t surprise her -- Mandalore has its own host of problems. The second dossier, however… “Chancellor, this is…” she pauses, rethinking her words. “This involves Obi-Wan Kenobi?” She asks. 

“There have been… ongoing problems on Mandalore, as I’m sure you’re aware,” he explains, “and they’re affecting the Senate now more than ever. There’s currently quite some gossip in the Senate regarding the Duchess and her true intentions -- as admirable as her stance on neutrality is in this war, there are valid concerns that the Duchess and, by extension, Mandalore, may not be as neutral as they say they are.” He pauses, measuring Keeasi’s visual response to this. “Master Kenobi and the Duchess are, to my understanding, quite close -- perhaps to the point of impropriety, and while that itself is none of my concern, I imagine that he may know something we don’t.”

Keeasi looks down to the photo of Kenobi in the dossier. Impropriety? Really? She quickly flicks back to the Duchess’ file, taking a second to look over her image in turn. Her? Keeasi can’t help but begin to pick out all the flaws -- she’s so _old._ Well, ok, not really. But she’s not doing herself any favors with anything she’s doing with-- Keeasi stops herself and forces herself to close the dossier. This is irrelevant to her. 

“Master Kenobi will be returning to Coruscant soon for consultation with the Jedi Council. I’d like you to…” he waves his hand about again, but this time Keeasi doesn’t need to complete his sentence. “I’d like you to do what you do. Find out what you can so that I am able to make an informed decision.” He takes another pause, waiting until he catches her gaze. “By any means necessary.” 

* * *

_“I… I don’t want…” she feels like she’s running out of words that are safe to use. “Why me?” She asks, holding back tears, her entire body shaking with an almost indescribable mix of hurt and rage. “Surely someone else could…”_

_“Come, Keeasi,” the voice insists, raspy, almost mocking her. “Who else can I trust for such a task? And besides,” it pauses, a shadow casting over her. “You’ve given your body in service so much already -- what harm is one more time?”_

His eyes open. His heart is racing.

* * *

Keeasi sits in the living room of her apartment, fidgeting with her hands. It’s been about a week since receiving her assignment, and Obi-Wan landed on Coruscant today. She’d known this day was coming for a while, and had been working up an excuse or a method for meeting him again -- but it turned out she didn’t need to. Obi-Wan is, instead, coming to her apartment to meet with her for a mission debrief. Or, well, that’s the official reason. If she knows him -- and she tends to think she does -- he’s using this as an excuse to check in on her, which just serves to make her feel even worse about the situation.

Usually when tasked with this kind of information gathering mission, Keeasi has some kind of game plan, a predetermined way to approach the situation. But unlike most of her targets, Obi-Wan knows what she does for a living. He’s seen her in action, both when she’s incognito and carrying out logistical planning. He’s going to be harder to trick. She frowns. Keeasi, admittedly, doesn’t like the idea of ‘tricking’ him. Her honest hope is that she can somehow naturally guide the conversation towards the Duchess so he can just tell her of his own volition. And given that she’s already done some groundwork of her own, she doesn’t need much confirmation. She’s already been to her regular spots, spoken to relevant contacts… she just needs to get _him_ to talk.

But if that doesn’t happen? Her options are limited and she’s in a little bit of trouble. She can try to do her usual thing and seduce him, of course… but something about the thought of that makes her incredibly anxious. It’s hardly a viable option, anyway. She still has to be able to work with him on the field after this, and he’s quite firmly dedicated to the Jedi Order -- even if what the Chancellor implied about the Duchess is true. No. Despite being an option, it’s not one she’s really been willing to entertain. Even though he’s coming to her apartment…

She shakes her head to herself. How silly. Anakin will no doubt be with him. Why is she so nervous about this? Is it because what she’s doing is wrong? 

Keeasi pauses at that thought. She’s done a lot of things that could be considered ‘wrong’ in the past, but she’s never really had it get to her like this. She wonders if maybe this is a sign that she’s too attached, that she’s -- to quote Obi-Wan himself -- ‘emotionally compromised.’

The communications terminal at her door beeps, causing her to jump a little. “Just a second!” She calls out so that the microphone can pick it up. Keeasi takes a quick glance of the apartment -- it’s just right, looking ‘lived in’ but still clean. She doesn’t want him knowing she’s been preparing for this visit. She limps to the door -- she’s free of the brace now, but she’s still in physical rehab, and walking can be tender -- and has a look through the terminal’s camera. It’s him. She takes a second to ground herself, remembering that this doesn’t need to be stressful, and opens the door. “General Kenobi,” she says, smiling, honestly happy to see him.

“Agent Commander Denn,” he responds in kind. There’s a sort of playfulness to the formality, neither of them taking it seriously. She steps to the side, tilting her head towards the living area of her apartment, not needing to verbally invite him in. He follows the gesture, Keeasi closing the door behind him and limping her way further into the apartment. “I see you’re back on your feet,” he notes. 

“Barely,” Keeasi replies. “Brace came off yesterday. Still have to do some rehab.” She gestures to the lounge suite, a long and plush monstrosity that came with the apartment. Keeasi didn’t like it at all, or any of the apartment, really. It was all shades of whites and greys and silvers, selected to make the space seem clean but in reality, leaving it sterile and cold. From what she’s seen of Senate apartments and villas, it seems to be the fashionable choice. She’s done her best to make the place seem a little warmer -- slapping some red and rust coloured throw blankets over the grey couch, tossing a rug on the floor and filling the display cabinets of the open plan kitchen attached to the living room with her earthen mugs from the old apartment -- but it’s little more than a pop of colour to an apartment that came pre-furnished for a woman with little time to decorate it. At the very least, the view is nice -- the floor-to-wall windows of the living displaying Coruscant’s skyline.

The Jedi takes a seat, frowning. “Rehab?” He asks. “Is it that serious?”

She shrugs, limping over to the kitchen’s counter now. “Just some torn ligaments. Definitely could have been worse.” Keeasi pauses by the display cabinets. “Tea?” She waits for him to give a nod before taking two mugs and hobbling to the draw that now houses the tea, taking two small bags of her Alderaan mix and dropping one in each mug. “Anakin not joining you?” She asks.

“He’s on base,” Obi-Wan explains. “Overseeing matters while I’m away.” He watches from the lounge suite as she presses a button on the faucet and fills the mugs with hot water. “He was quite impressed by your antics, by the way.”

“He said that?” She asks. 

“Well… he didn’t _say_ it,” he admits. “But I know Anakin, and I think he was a little jealous that you got away with it.” Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, watching her slowly carry the full mugs towards him. “Do you need any--”

“No,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “No, it’s okay. It’s good for me to move.” Very carefully, she places the mugs down on the coffee table before sitting down on the lounge herself. “So,” she asks, lifting her mug to her mouth once settled, “what brings you to my apartment, of all places? Surely you must have something more important to do after meeting with the Council.”

He reaches out and places his fingertips on the side of his mug, testing the temperature before withdrawing his hand. “Well, I wanted to see you,” he explains. “How you’re doing, I mean.” He watches her glance down to her injured leg before continuing. “Not just that, either. I said some things…” Obi-Wan quickly scratches at his beard, taking a second to choose his words. “And I know I’ve already apologised for my attitude, but I made some unfair judgements, too.”

“What do you mean?” She asks. 

“The way I reacted when I discovered that you and Tann--”

“Tann?” She’s surprised when his response is to just stare at her. Tann… Tann… “ _Oh!_ The Radar Technician.” Keeasi chuckles a little under her breath, grimacing. “Right. Tann.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself, shaking his head momentarily. He takes another second before continuing. “The way I reacted was unfair to you.”

Keeasi keeps her eyes trained on him, something settling over her. Usually she’d feel pretty vindicated by this, but something about his apology is… “No,” she says, shaking her head and placing the mug back down. “I think I owe you an apology as well. I shouldn’t have gone behind your back. Sometimes I forget we’re from two different worlds.” She offers up a small smile, a gesture of humility, and notices his eyes flicker towards her before moving to the floor for a second.

“Yes,” he says quietly. “I suppose we are.” 

The two sit in silence for a moment, taking their time with their respective drinks, and it sits a little awkwardly with Keeasi. She’s glad that the gentle hum of the small transports flying past her window is enough to drown out the sound of her exhaling after holding her breath subconsciously

“I also, with your permission, wanted to ask you a favor,” he finally says, snapping out of thought and taking his mug in his hand. 

“He we go,” Keeasi laughs, feeling a little relieved at the change of tone. She watches him take a drink of the tea and decides to follow, taking her own mug in her hand. “Never without purpose, I’ll give you that. What is it, then?” She raises her mug to her lips, taking a sip.

“It’s about the Duchess of Mandalore.” Keeasi nearly chokes on her tea at this. Is he _kidding_ her? “I… I could use your assistance.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, stifling a cough. “The Duchess of Mandalore?” She does her best to hide her confusion -- which isn’t that harm considering that she’s completely blindsided by _his_ bringing it up.

He nods. “We’re old friends,” he explains, “and she’s run into some… troubles. The political situation surrounding Mandalore is uncertain, to say the least.”

Keeasi blinks. “Old friends?” She asks.

“Yes,” he exhales. “Very old friends. I was assigned to protect her in my Padawan days…” He trails off for a moment, and it’s then that Keeasi realises she’s been holding her breath. “I know you’re on medical leave, but I was hoping that maybe, if it’s not too much trouble, you could keep an eye on things? I’m not deeply familiar with the everyday workings of your work when you’re not on the field, but…”

“But you’re desperate?” She finishes. 

“Not the word I’d use,” he chuckles. “But it is urgent to me, yes.”

Keeasi takes a deep breath, swallowing whatever it is she’s feeling now. Maybe she’s a bit burnt that she’d been so nervous about something he’s just handed to her. “Kenobi,” she begins, forcing herself to smirk, glancing at the Jedi. “Still friends with the Duchess for all these years after being her protector? Sounds romantic.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes at this. “You’re starting to sound like Anakin.”

“Aww,” she teases, “hit a nerve, did I?” She gives him a dramatic pout, but she knows good and well she has.

But what really takes her back is when he offers her a very small smile. “May I be honest with you?” He asks. He waits for her to nod before giving an exhale of relief, setting down his mug before rest back into the lounge suite. “I definitely… there were definitely feelings, yes.”

Keeasi realises that her heart is racing, and all of a sudden it feels like her blood is pooling in her stomach and fingertips from… anxiety? This is honestly none of her business, and she feels wrong for prying. “Are they still there?” She asks. Obi-Wan purses his lips, and she can tell he’s hesitant to talk, despite having taken the first step in opening up. “I’m not going to tell anyone,” she assures him, looking into the tea in her mug. “I don’t really have anyone to tell.”

“Come on,” he chuckles, “that’s not true.”

She raises an eyebrow. “It is,” she insists. “I can’t even remember the last time I talked to someone without it being related to my work,” she explains. “I don’t really have friends.”

“You have me,” he offers, nonchalantly. A smile erupts on her face, and it’s like she has no control over it. Something about him saying that outloud is… it’s nice. Especially given her line of work. “To answer your question, though,” he says, “I suppose those kinds of feelings don’t really go away, do they?”

“So how would that even work, then?” She asks. “With you being a Jedi and everything, I mean.”

“It wouldn’t,” he replies flatly. “There was a time where I would have left the order for her if she’d asked me, though.”

Keeasi reaches up and brushes some of her stray hair behind her ear. “Kenobi, I had no idea you were so…” She clears her throat, feeling nervous again all of a sudden. “I’ll see what I can find out for you, of course.” A half truth -- she’s already started on this process, and has dug up quite a bit of intelligence on the Mandalorian Death Watch. ...But while she said she’d provide any intelligence she found to the Chancellor, it’s not counter productive to her mission to also provide it to Obi-Wan, especially if all the information collected so far has failed to prove any kind of anti-Republic conspiracy. 

“Thank you, I appreciate that very much,” he says, holding her gaze. Just as Keeasi worries that he’s going to notice her blushing, he reaches forward and picks the mug back up. “I was thinking about our first meeting today,” he begins, totally blindsiding her with the change of subject, “and it occurred to me that I don’t think you’ve ever cut your hair.”

Keeasi pauses, watching him, waiting for some kind of punchline -- but it never comes. “What an odd change of subject,” she remarks. 

“Seeing you in civilian clothing reminded me, that’s all,” he says. “Is there a reason?”

Keeasi reaches up with her free hand to feel her hair -- he’s right, though. She hasn’t cut it since she arrived on Coruscant. “Not really,” she says. “For a long time it was because it help me fit in at the clubs and pleasure houses, but I guess after that I… never really thought about it.” Usually Keeasi has her hair wrapped up in a bun, or braided behind her back -- actually, the last time she probably had it down in front of people was when she was on the resort and… when everyone saw her naked. Oh. “When do you go back on tour?” She asks. 

“I’ve actually got a week’s leave, which brings me to the next thing I wanted to discuss with you,” he says. “How would you feel about sparring?” 

“I’m sorry,” she laughs, “what?”

“I’m being serious,” he replies with a smile. “I think you could benefit from it.”

Keeasi scoffs, giving the Jedi an incredulous look. “I’m quite good at defending myself, thank you very much.”

“I never said you aren’t,” he argues, “but I’m worried that there’s going to be times where you’ll be separated from your gadgets.”

“I don’t _need_ a loadout to keep myself safe,” she insists.

Obi-Wan frowns at this. “Keeasi, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but seeing one of your targets strangling you was just a little upsetting for me.” 

“It was one time!”

“And if we hadn’t been able to reach that skylight when we did, it would have been the _last._ ” He closes his eyes for a second, taking a breath to stop himself from escalating. “Keeasi, just once?” He asks. “For my peace of mind.”

Keeasi mulls this over. On one hand, how dare he imply she needs extra help. She’s gotten this far without him, spare for a few select situations that she’s sure she would have gotten out of either way. On the other, he’s not going to believe him unless she _shows_ him. “Fine,” she relents. “I have rehab in the training rooms tomorrow. “But this is a one time thing.”

“Why, Keeasi,” he begins, smirking, his tone mirroring hers from before when she was making fun of him. “Why so hesitant? Could it be that you’re not as confident in your abilities as you say?” Maintaining eye contact, he takes a sip of his tea. 

“Not really,” she replies, raising an eyebrow. “Just wondering how useful you are without your light saber.”


	10. Vulnerability

The Republic Guard’s training rooms tend to attract a wide range of people, being open to use by all members of the Republic Military including Clone Troopers that are stationed in the area. Usually it’s quite busy, and today is no exception -- but the sight of a Jedi is still managing to draw quite a bit of attention from those around Keeasi as she finishes her rehabilitation session. 

“General Kenobi,” she says, peering down at him from the balance beam she’s perched on. “I half expected you to cancel.” She smiles and begins to take the first few steps along the beam, her rehabilitation coach walking alongside her, his arms out and ready to catch her.

“I’ve never been one to go back on my word,” he replies. He watches for a moment, walking alongside her as well from the other side of the bar. “Will we be sparring in here?” He asks, looking around. “It’s quite the audience.”

She shakes her head, slowly stopping to catch her balance. “No. I’ve reserved a private room for us.”

“Private rooms?” He asks with a laugh. “How luxurious.”

Keeasi rolls her eyes, taking a few more steps. “Some of us,” she begins, stopping as she comes to one end of the bar. She takes a deep breath, very carefully pivoting on one foot, wobbling a little as she makes the turn, but still managing to maintain her balance. “...Some of us prefer to stretch away from prying eyes. In case you haven’t noticed,” she remarks, “there’s not a lot of women in here.”

She watches as he takes a second to look around the main area again. While the training rooms offer a wide range of facilities like a gym, some weights, training simulations and even a sauna -- she’s right in that there’s  _ far _ less women than men, especially given the increased number of Clone Troopers on tour.

“A fair observation, I’ll admit,” he says under his breath. 

“Anyway, it’s specifically designed for sparring,” Keeasi assures him, pausing in the middle of the beam. She looks to her coach, giving him a nod, transferring her weight to injured leg. She takes a deep breath, ignoring the discomfort and trying to keep her balance -- but her leg immediately buckles. She loses her balance, falling from the opposite side of the beam to her spotter. She braces herself, expecting to land on the firm matting beneath, but she never makes an impact. Obi-Wan manages to step in and catch her, carefully placing her down on her feet. “...Thanks.” Keeasi turns to her coach, giving him a wave. “Same time tomorrow?” 

Her coach nods and grabs his water container, giving the two of them a polite nod before walking away. Keeasi picks up her towel and water, gesturing for the Jedi to follow her. She leads him out of the man area and into a small hallway, eventually coming to a room with a sliding door marked ‘Sparring Room #3.’ She gestures for him to enter first, waiting until he’s inside to step into the room, sliding the door closed behind her. 

The room itself is sparse -- a small section on the left is without any padding, several racks of training weapons lining the walls. Keeasi unceremoniously tosses her towel over one of the training staffs, stepping up to the padded section of the space. “Well?” She asks, hands on her hips. “What do you want to start with?”

He glances back to the weapons racks, joining her on the padded area. “I hadn’t been expecting there to be weapons available,” he says. “My intent was to teach you some unarmed combat.”

She openly scoffs at this. “I’ve been in the military for ten years,” she reminds him. “I’m familiar.”

“Humour me,” he requests. “How about you show me what you already know?”

Keeasi exhales, rolling her shoulders. “Alright,” she says with a shrug. “Come on, then.” He doesn’t move, making her frown. “No, seriously, come o--”

He reaches out and grabs at her arm, and although it takes her by surprise, she quickly grabs back at his sleeves, gripping tightly to the fabric. She turns her body to him, kicking out his feet and pulling him towards her, crying out as she throws him over her legs and onto the floor. “Like I said,” she reiterates, standing above him, “I’ve  _ had _ trainin--”

She’s cut off when he sweeps at her feet, all but clearing her off them, causing her to fall to her back with a thud. She turns her head, clearly offended. “Sith Lords won’t fight honorably,” he says, matter of factly.

She grunts in frustration, pulling herself to her feet as he does the same. “Sith Lords?” She asks. “Fighting those is--” he lunges at her again, this time mid-waist. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, dropping and using the weight and force of his body to throw him aside, Keeasi slamming against the ground next to him and taking him into a headlock. “Fighting Sith Lords is  _ your _ job.”

He gently taps at her arm and Keeasi releases him, rising back to her feet. “We’re at war, Keeasi. Anything can happen.”

“Speaking of which,” she says, waiting until he’s fully upright to continue. “I want to try something.” She moves around him, putting herself between the Jedi and one of the room’s padded walls. “Do that thing. The Jedi thing.” He stares at her blankly, forcing her to elaborate. “You know, like when we were in that base and you used the Force.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

She smirks. “Humour me.”

He hesitates for a second, but eventually raises his arm and --oof! Something pushes Keeasi back, and she’s not sure how else to describe it other than a great force slamming into her, like the wind. She crashes against the softly padded wall, crying out with surprise. Obi-Wan immediately rushes forward. “Are you hurt?” He asks. 

Keeasi shakes her head, raising a hand, gesturing for him to stop. “No, I’m fine,” she insists and much to his surprise, she starts laughing. “That is the strangest thing!” 

“Well, I’m glad you think it’s funny,” he says, apparently not finding the fun in it that Keeasi is. “I happen to worry quite a lot about what will happen to you if you run into a Sith.” He pauses, Keeasi staring at him.

“Ok,” she exhales. “What is this about?” 

“I’ve told you.”

“Yes, but what’s it  _ really _ about?” She asks. “What’s really going on, Kenobi?”

She passes him, making her way to the weapons rack and taking two training staffs. “I just worry about what could have happened if I hadn’t been at that base with you,” he explains, catching one of the staffs as she tosses it at him.

Keeasi, who is returning to her original spot, pauses beside him. “I would have been fine,” she says, raising her hand and bringing it to his shoulder for a moment. “This is my job.” She waits a second before letting go, returning to where she stood before. “This all sounds to be like you’re projecting, anyway.”

“Projecting?” He asks. 

She doesn’t answer immediately, gesturing to the staff in her hands. “Go easy on me, I didn’t get the twenty years of Jedi training.”

“Projecting  _ what, _ exactly,” he repeats, persisting, even though she’s clearly preparing to initiate combat. “What do you mean by that?”

“It sounds to me,” she begins, taking a step forward and thrusting the staff out towards him, causing him to step back, his own at the ready, “that you’re  _ really _ worried about your girlfriend. You know, with all the problems in Mandalore?”

He rolls his eyes, taking his forward to step forward, their staffs clanking together this time as she parries. “First Anakin, now you,” he says under his breath. “She is  _ not _ my… that’s not it.”

“Really?” Keeasi laughs, pushing forward with her hits, forcing Obi-Wan to take the defensive. “Because you sure act like it.”

He parries, pushing back. “You went from threatening to have my court marshalled for working during medical leave to asking me to spend my medical leave collecting intel for you, for one,” she retorts, “And you admitted as much yesterday!”

“I said they were old feelings,” he argues. “That means very little when approaching the situation with hindsight.”

“I doubt that, somehow.”

“People put aside old feelings all the time,” he insists, pushing forward three times. Keeasi, however, while not the best on attack -- is capable when defending. “I did it with you.” 

He throws his staff against hers, but she manages to block it, the two weapons locked against each other as they both push to try and gain momentum. “What’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?!” She all but shouts out as she puts all her weight into shoving him back, staffs clanking together as she manages to parry his follow.

Obi-Wan, however, is not playing anymore, taking his staff by the centre and going on the attack, using both sides of his weapon to push Keeasi back further. “I was a young man, Keeasi. And you were--” 

He’s cut off by the sound of her staff clapping down against his, her force increasing. “I was  _ what, _ Kenobi?” She grunts as he pushes her back. “Think  _ carefully _ about that.”

He doesn’t return her banter this time, fully unleashing a flurry of attacks. Keeasi is more than willing to admit he far outclasses her in skill, and the best she can do in order to save face is continue to defend. “The point is,” he finally argues, “that part of my job is to set those emotions aside!” 

“What kind of emotions?!” She shouts, losing patience and going in on the attack. This is a mistake. He immediately finds an opening, smacking his staff against her hip with a very controlled level of force before tilting his staff up, hooking under hers and all but pulling it out of her hands. She glares at him, reaching down to pick her staff back up from the floor, but it flies across the room of its own accord before she can get to it. Keeasi looks to Kenobi, who smirks, giving a shrug, and feels anger throb in her chest. Without really thinking it through, Keeasi cries out and charges him - which he, evidentially, is not expecting. She tackles him at the waist, toppling him to the floor with a thud, Keeasi’s takedown being so haphazard that she falls to her hands and knees above him. 

She takes a second to catch her breath, victorious as she stares down at him, ready to say something witty, something to brag about her win -- but she suddenly becomes hyper aware of how close they are right now. She’s all but straddling him, her face only inches from his, and she can swear she can feel his breath on her face. And her eyes almost involuntarily move to his…

Keeasi pulls herself away immediately, a panic slamming against her chest. What is she  _ doing?  _ She feels almost perverse, looking at a Jedi that way, let alone Obi-Wan. What is wrong with her? She sits back on the floor, eyes unfocused as she tries to collect her emotions. This isn’t like her at all…

“Well done,” he chuckles, sitting up, seemingly not physically exerted at all from the match. “I imagine with some extra training, I won’t need to hold back.” Keeasi doesn’t respond, avoiding eye contact and immediately getting to her feet. “Keeasi?” He asks. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” she replies, making a beeline for her things. “I’m uh. My leg,” she says quickly, trying her best to not stumble over her words. “I think I overdid it.”

He picks himself up from the floor, frowning. “Do you need me to help you get to your-”

“No,” she says quickly. “It’s fine. Thanks for the sparring session.” With that, Keeasi unceremoniously limps out of the room, knowing fully she’s left Obi-Wan confused -- if not tipped-off -- by her sudden and urgent need to leave.  Keeasi’s just as confused by whatever…  _ that _ was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the length of this one. I know it's a super short chapter but it doesn't really fit into the next part as part of a chapter. I hope you're all enjoying this. I know it's a slow burn but you know. Most good things are.


	11. Covet

The next time Keeasi sees Obi-Wan Kenobi, he is handcuffed, trapped in a cage, and in a lot of trouble. 

They’re on a Huttese barge in Nar Shaddaa, where, somehow, Obi-Wan Kenobi has wound up in the hands of Chuutoth, one of the local --albeit less powerful -- Hutts. The briefing isn’t totally clear what he was doing on Nar Shaddaa, but Keeasi has a hunch that it might have something to do with a certain Duchess. It’s been around eight weeks since their little sparring session, and Keeasi’s first mission post recovery wasn’t the ‘light duties’ she’d been promised -- although, to be fair, she’d volunteered for this mission. Rescuing Kenobi was one thing, but navigating a Hutt network to track him down without getting killed or raising suspicion is another. Once again, a mission that Keeasi would have suspected was tailor made for her if she didn’t know any better.

“ _ Mah pateesa _ ,” she all but sings to one Diivit, the Nikto responsible for getting her as close to the Hutt as she is. She hands him a drink, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “What’s in the cage?” She asks in near perfect Huttese. As far as Diivit is aware, Keeasi is Yeeshala, just another dancer working for a Huttese a leisure barge. She’d initially planned to work one of the bounty hunters, or even the Hutt directly, but it turns out that a skimpy outfit and some language skills is all Diivit needs. 

“Jedi,” he replies, taking his drink with one hand and wrapping an arm around her waist with another. “Bounty hunters found him sniffing around Korrvite’s warehouse.”

She raises an eyebrow, pretending to only have a mild interest. “Why not kill him?  _ Kiuke cua wolei. _ ”

He shrugs. “Apparently he’s worth a lot to the Republic  _ and _ the Separatists,” he explains. “Chuutoth is gonna hand him over to the highest bidder.” Not too far from Kenobi’s cage sits Chuutoth the Hutt, on the other side of the carpeted VIP area from the captured Jedi and other displays of wealth and power. The Hutt makes eye contact with Diivit, gesturing for him to approach, and Diivit throws back his drink in one swig. “Here,” he says, handing her the empty glass. “Get me a top up, will you?” He moves to leave, but not before reaching down and delivering a firm smack to Keeasi’s behind, causing her to jump a little. She giggles and smiles as he walks away -- but if things go sideways, she’s making a point of killing him first.

She calmly makes her way to the bar, keeping her composure locked despite the adrenaline she’s feeling. While she always planned to rescue him, she’d originally expected to help Anakin gain entry to the barge, or sabotage the vessel in some way. Instead, she’s managed to gain access to the VIP area, something reserved for only the most desired and valuable dancers, Chuutoth’s most loyal allies, and his personal array of slaves. It’s not a small feat, even if anticipated. “ _ Yaeei! Dai! _ ” She calls to the barman over the music, waving him over and offering him the empty glass.  “ _ Cheesba pomka andoba bo? Diivit doth yarga venapkee _ .” He chuckles as she says this, taking the glass and getting started on the refill. She’s managed to blend in pretty seamlessly on the barge -- it turns out a little Hutteese goes a long way. 

While the barman sees to the refill, Keeasi looks over the edge of the barge and gets a glimpse of a small, ruddy colored transport that’s been carefully trailing them for about an hour now. The plan -- at the moment, anyway -- is to get Obi-Wan’s lightsaber back, get him out of that cage, and then get off the barge. If that involves getting onto that transport so Anakin can help them make a getaway, or if it means getting Anakin to board the barge to help them, remains to be seen.

She leans on the bar, eyeing one of the slaves as she approaches. The Twi’lek, named Vek’shii, brings a tray of empty glasses back to the bar, placing them on the bartop beside Keeasi.  _ “Do cloyan ji loo,” _ she says under her breath to Keeasi in Ryl as she moves the glasses from the tray to the bar one by one. “I found the goods.” Vek’shii glances over to a table which is full of various species of men, loudly cheering at the dancer writing on their table. “The Ubese. He’s supposed to go get it valued.  _ Ish ohk clernis, cei ohk rikey. _ ” 

Keeasi nods, reaching into the bust of her outfit (which is, to be frank, a very fancy bra) and removing a small datacard.  _ “Sei neo bo ji vonaltan. _ My end of the deal,” she whispers, casually placing it on the bartop and sliding it to the Twi’lek, who quickly places her palm on top of it.  _ “Xeuan dei jemalau.”  _ Vek’shii nods to Keeasi, being so quick about it that she could have missed it if she hadn’t been careful, before walking off with her tray. That datacard is incredibly valuable -- forged papers of sale and release. She’s free as soon as she gets an opportunity to leave the barge. 

Keeasi doesn’t even wait for the drink, making a beeline for the table, watching the Twi’lek dancer notice her. “Go get a drink and take a break,” she calls over the music.  _ “Do gue laboo a vyan saruasa.” _ The Twi’lek gives her a smile, grabbing the currency she’s collected off the table and climbing down to the groan of the clients, making her way to the back room. Breaks are rare, and if you’re taking care of special guests, you’re not expected to stop until they do. 

She gives the clients a smile, taking a second to climb atop the table. Kneeling on all fours, she flips her hair as she comes to her knees, rolling her hips along with the music to the cheers of the rowdy men at the table. Reaching over to one of the humans, she playfully takes his helmet, placing it on her own head, and something about this works because the currency starts hitting the table top. She pushes it out of the way, climbing down the other side of the table and climbing onto the lap of the Ubese, the light reflecting on the hilt of the light saber tucked into his belt in the corner of her vision. 

His friends cheer as she straddles him, hips grinding against him. Her hands slide down his torso and she leans in to breathe against his ear -- her free hands wandering to his hips. Suddenly, she takes her right hand and leans back, shoving face (or, rather, the visor of his mask) against her chest, smothering him in cleavage as his friends cheer and her left hand quickly takes the light saber from his belt, shoving it into the top of her thigh-high boot. She pushes him back into his seat, shooting him a wink, before climbing off him and collecting the currency that’s been slapped onto the table. She then waves over another dancer to take her place. “Sorry, boys, I’m needed elsewhere,” she calls back playfully as she walks away, giving a flirtatious wave. They’re already distracted by the next dancer. Easy.

She breezes by the bar to collect the drink she’d ordered, making her way back to Diivit from there. She quietly approaches, aware he’s talking to Chuutoth, handing him the drink without a word before staying out of his way. Being in this vicinity, however, gives her the perfect opportunity to wander over to the Hutt’s display of treasures, parking herself near the cage and very slowly swaying along with the music, waiting for the opportunity to make her move. 

To her surprise, though, she doesn’t have to wait long. “Any chance of some water?” the voice from the cage asks. “I don’t know if you’re allowed to, but I don’t imagine I’ll be of much value if I’m--” Keeasi quickly squats down beside the cage, putting her in his line of sight, although she keeps looking straight ahead, moving her arms about like she’s still dancing. “Fancy seeing you here,” he remarks, not doing the best job at hiding his surprise.

“Wait for my signal,” she instructs under her breath, quickly reaching into her boot and tossing the lightsaber into the cage for him. “Anakin’s around. We’re getting you out.”

She stands up before he can respond, making her way back to Diivit, standing behind him and sliding her arms across his chest and shoulders. “ _ Mah pateesa _ ,” she sighs into his ear.

“Almost done, Yeeshala. How about you go get yourself a drink?” He asks her. She frowns and removes her arms, about to oblige him, but the Hutt clears his throat. 

_ “Haku ne bo?” _ Chuutoth asks, his eyes locking onto Keeasi. 

Diivit looks between the Hutt and Keeasi. “This is Yeeshala,” he explains. “She’s from the uh, lower levels of the barge -- but I brought her up. Hope that’s ok.”

_ “ _ _ Bu duapa teiai, peai cha ha? Jee neu. Uba gee wa dan apiua,  _ _ Diivit,”  _ the Hutt chuckles.  _ “ _ _ Jee cha ahbenoy bacaka yae, um tah bo…” _ Chuutoth gestures for Keeasi to approach.  _ “Jot mi yoieu wa dan mesohba uba.” _

Keeasi makes a point of visibly hesitating, but obliges, crossing the distance between Diivit and Chuutoth, stopping directly in front of his dais and giving him a very, very meet smile.

The Hutt takes his name looking over her before giving a very long and -- frankly -- uncomfortable moan of approval.  _ “Tagwa, Jee bacaka tah bo ree kiuke. Jee hatkocanh chemant uen bai doth mee bamauasa che cahba mah jotke bmela banba, Diviit.” _ He looks to Keeasi next, his tail suddenly slapping against the dais.  _ “Nan, beu. Cheespa wa hhoph che mi ateema,” _ he instructs her.

Once again, Keeasi obliges, climbing up on to the dais as Chuutoth laughs at the visibly distressed Diivit. “Chuutoth, come on!” He pleads. “I told you, we’ll make back twice as much on that Jedi.” He looks to Keeasi, who’s taken her place against the tail of the Hutt. “Yeeshala, I thought--”

_ “Ua doth douasonh!”  _ The Hutt shouts over him.  _ “Cha donee, ua noa-a tee chahsa cha. In ting uba caiot gee uen joppay dobra woy-- whao uba panbika kae.” _

The Hutt, again, begins cackling at the apparent humiliation of his underling, his tail slapping the dais beside Keeasi. This, she decides, is the time. She stands back up, moving closer to the Hutt, nestling up against him and giving an affectionate sigh -- the display serving to make him cackle louder. If there’s a Hutt alive that isn’t all about chauvinistic displays of power, Keeasi is yet to meet them.

It’s then that she reaches into her boot and removes the blaster, jamming it into the side of the Hutt, who gives a surprised cry. “No one move!” She shouts. Chuutoth’s guards have their weapons fixed on her already, which she expected, but other than that, no one else is aware yet -- the Cantina’s music is too loud. “NOW!” She roars at the top of her lungs, the blue light emanating from the cage a very clear indication that he heard her loud and clear. She watches the lock clank against the ground, melted through, the cage door swinging open. 

Blasters are already trained on him when he emerges, the Jedi effortlessly batting them away with his saber as he approaches, reflecting the bolts like they’re target practice. Keeasi uses her free hand to press the button on her necklace -- a hidden communicator -- and finally open lines. “You ready for us?” She asks. 

“About time,” Anakin’s voice replies through the commlink. “Was starting to think you’d got distracted.”

“Me? Distracted?” She asks. Keeasi notices the Hutt’s tail slithering towards her and immediately stomps the high heel of her boot into the tail’s flesh, causing the Hutt to wail in pain.  _ “Cha kark dopo fa, paudotaka bukee! _ ” She hisses at the Hutt, before tapping the commlink again. “I never get distracted.”

“Debatable,” Anakin responds. “I’ll bring the transport around. Where are you?”

She watches as Obi-Wan neutralizes one guard, moving onto the next. “Top level. VIP area. You should be able to see us.” Kenobi takes down the second guard, moving on to the third and final. While this is all good and well, it’s only a matter of time before they start to draw attention from those near the bar. “Hurry.”

The final guard goes down and Obi-Wan finally turns his image to Keeasi, looking up to her on the dais. “I always seem to find you in the strangest of places,” he remarks, reaching his arm out, as if to offer her his hand. 

Instead of gently taking it to descend, though, she stomps on the Hutt’s tail once more, jumping down from the dais. Then, and only then, does she seize his hand -- except she uses it to drag him along as she breaks into a run. “I know you can’t help yourself,” she says, sprinting with him up a small landing of steps and to a viewing platform, “but the entirety of this ship is armed and about to come after us -- so can the banter wait?”

The viewing platform is on the back end of the barge, a ledge that looks out over the horizon of Nar Shaddaa. While it’s a perfect spot for an emergency evacuation, it’s also, in essence, a big corner. Surely enough, everyone else on the VIP level has started to take notice, too. “Keeasi,” he says calmly, “get behind me.”

“Anakin,” she speaks into the communicator, doing as Kenobi says, “now would be great.” No response. Keeasi looks to the bar -- the Ubese from before is frantically checking his belt. People are pointing to the two of them. They’re out of time. “Anakin…” she growls into the communicator. Blasters come out, and Obi-Wan begins deflecting shorts as the dancers scream and the bar begins to arm itself. “ _ Anakin!” _ She shouts, firing back as best as she can from behind the Jedi. This is all going very badly.

Suddenly, the music is drowned out by a roaring sound from behind them -- engines. Anakin is finally here. The transport is a small civilian one, meaning he can only open the top. He’s lower than the ledge, and Keeasi intends to wait for him to bring the transport up from beneath -- but Obi-Wan has other ideas. “Time to go!” He announces, seizing an arm around her waist and all but throwing both of them off the ledge, Keeasi genuinely screaming as they fall. However, sure enough, they safely land against the plush back seat of the transport, the roof closing over the top of them as Anakin speeds them away to safety. 

“ _ That, _ Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling himself up to sit properly in the seat, “is a rescue.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” Anakin exhales from the driver’s seat. “Are you alright?”

Obi-Wan shrugs, looking to Keeasi as she settles into the seat next to him. “I’ve definitely had  _ worse. _ ” He finally takes a second to look at Keeasi properly, chuckling. “You didn’t need to dress up for me.”

Keeasi glares at him. “Thanks for rescuing me, Keeasi!” She mocks, doing a purposefully bad attempt at his accent. “I’m so grateful you went undercover and saved me from the consequences of my own actions!”

“We can take him back,” Anakin offers. 

Obi-Wan looks between the two, surprised at… was that  _ banter _ they were sharing? Anakin and Keeasi? “How long have you been working on getting me out?” He asks. 

“Since we first got the ransom,” he replies matter-of-factly.

“Three weeks?”

Anakin nods, pulling the transport into a sharp dip. “One week of information collecting, two weeks of her being undercover.”

He looks between the two again. “...Without killing each other?”

“Some of us are able to be professional,” Keeasi retorts, crossing her arms. 

He raises his eyebrows, genuinely a little befuddled by this. “Consider me impressed,” he says with a shrug. “And thankyou, of course.”

The rest of the ride back to the larger Republic transport ship is relatively silent. Anakin and Obi-Wan share the majority of conversation, but Keeasi sits quietly, arms crossed, staring out the window. If Obi-Wan is to be honest, she almost seems a little hostile. 

When they finally dock, she all but leaps out of the transport as soon as possible, not saying a word to either of them. “I’ll meet you for a debrief in an hour,” Obi-Wan says to Anakin, before heading in the direction Keeasi stormed off in. It’s not exactly hard to track her down -- the heels of her boots are loud on the metal flooring of the ship, and with a very loose jog he’s able to catch up with her. “Keeasi,” he calls to her, following her into a small room. He stops in the doorway when he realises it’s a private bunking. “What’s wrong?”

She rolls her eyes. “Nothing. Go to medbay, Kenobi.” He watches her open a small bag, taking out a jacket and throwing it over herself. 

“Are you sure about that?” He asks. “Keeasi, you haven’t spoken to me in months--”

“You were kidnapped.”

“Not for two months,” he argues. “And now this? Did I do something?”

She purses her lips together. “I need to go shower and you need to go to the medbay and--”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” he insists. “I’m a Jedi -- we can feel anger, you know.”

Keeasi closes her eyes, giving a very, very long exhale. Bringing her hand to pinch at the bridge of her nose, she finally relents. “I know you think flirting with me is cute and everything, but there’s consequences to everything and…” she trails off, not sure how to broach the uncomfortable subject. She’s honestly been trying to avoid it. 

He crosses his arms. “Is this about how I spoke to you on the barge?” He asks. 

“No, well, yes. But not just that. It’s just.... I just.” She drops her hands. “Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing?” She asks.

“I’m sorry, Keeasi,” he replies, “but it was a Jedi matter and--”

“Oh come  _ on, _ ” she cuts in, rolling her eyes. “This was something to do with the Duchess, don’t think I wouldn’t find that out.” She pauses. “I thought this was something I was in on, given how you asked me to help you with it.”

“You were in on it,” he explains. “But I hadn’t heard from you since you stormed out of training, Keeasi.”

“Stormed out?” She asks, indignant. “I didn’t  _ storm out! _ ”

“You most certainly did,” he insists. “Without an explanation, too.”

She takes her turn to cross her arms, now. “I told you -- I overdid it.”

“And the month with no communication?” He asks. “What about that.”

“I sent you  _ plenty _ of information about Mandalore,” she argues. 

Kenobi shakes his head. “Information is not communication. I sent you quite a few messages asking about your health, if you remember.”

Keeasi tenses her jaw. It’s true. He probably sent her ten or so messages asking about her health. She’d avoided responding to every single one. “Didn’t seem important. Your priority is the Duchess.”

“When I send someone a personal message,” he says, “my priority at that moment in time is usually them.” He pauses, suddenly frowning. “...Are you jealous of the Duchess?” He asks. 

“Excuse me?”

“I told you, Keeasi, I can  _ feel _ anger. And it  _ radiates _ when you--”

“Get out.” She interrupts, her speech blunt.

“Keeasi--”

“Get.  _ Out. _ ” 

She catches his gaze, holding her ground, and after a few moments exhales, shaking his head, visibly exhausted with this conversation. “Regardless,” he says, “thank you for your efforts on Nar Shaddaa.” With that, he turns and walks away, Keeasi immediately stepping forward and slamming her hand against the button for the door. 

With the room closed and locked, Keeasi leans against the door, bracing herself with her arm and pressing her eyes against it -- as if that will somehow hold in the tears of pure frustration that start to spill from her eyes.

* * *

_ She finally turns her head up, coming face to face with the figure standing over her. “I  _ **_hate_ ** _ him,” she repeats, the tears now freely flowing down her face. Truely, Keeasi Denn has fallen from grace. _

_ "Good, good,” the figure cackles. “How strong. How powerful!” _

The sun is not yet up when he awakens. A panic rips through his chest again. 

Something needs to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you really want, you can translate the Huttese used by old mate by using this tool here: http://starwars.myrpg.org/coruscant_translator.php
> 
> Otherwise, next chapter is gonna be a big old emotional hurt comfort kind of dealy and I hope everyone is ready for things to start to get --real!-- Also, please, if you enjoy this at all, leave me a comment because otherwise I'm flying blind. I know this is a ship no one really wants but you know~ I like my niche'.


	12. Gentility

She’s never been here before. 

She’s been to the temporary suites. Mostly to serve papers, collect and pass on data, that kind of thing. But she’s never been  _ here. _ She stands outside Obi-Wan’s temporary quarters, just kind of… staring at the door. She needs to knock, yeah, but when he opens for her? What does she say? 

What  _ can _ you say?

And what if he’s still angry with her after the last time they spoke? After she extracted him from Nar Shaddaa? He has every right to be, of course, she was being reactive to an attempt at kindness -- but is it even right for her to be here? Do you really want to deal with someone who you’re still upset with after your girlfriend has died?

_ Girlfriend _ . She stops herself. Can’t use that word. He doesn’t like that word. 

She knocks on the door, deciding to get it over with and rip it off like a bandaid. She hears his voice from inside and immediately regrets the small box of goods she’s holding in her arms for him. Tea? Really? How is tea going to help a man who--

The door opens. His expression says it all -- he hasn’t been expecting her. 

“Obi-Wan,” she says, deciding to take the initiative to speak first. “I uh. I heard what happened and I--”

Before she can finish, his arms are around her and she presses against his chest, the sudden gesture all but stealing her breath, the box falling from her hands and to their feet with a loud thud. She doesn’t dare speak a word. She barely expected a smile, let alone a hug -- and in the doorway, where anyone could walk past at any second. Doesn’t he think this is inappropriate? 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, the feeling of his breath against her ear making her stomach leap. Finally, after a few moments, he releases her, picking up the box from the floor and handing it back to her. “Come in, then,” he says, stepping aside so she can pass by. The steps in, waiting for him to put her… somewhere, she guesses.

The apartment is definitely smaller than hers, and she wonders if there’s any benefit at all to being a Jedi. Still, though, while modest, she can see it has all the amenities he’d need for a short stay. A small kitchen, a small table, a medium size bed, and a room that she assumes leads to a bathroom. “So you’re in here for how long?” She asks. 

“Until I’m cleared by medical,” he replies, moving to the table and pulling out the chair for her. “I see now why you hated medical leave so much.”

“Don’t like the constant check ins from the medical droids?” She asks.

He shakes his head, taking the seat across from her. “Not one bit.”

She pauses for a second, unsure what to talk about next. Suddenly, though she remembers the box she has placed on the table. “Oh, I uh, brought you some stuff,” Keeasi begins, opening the top of the box. “I’m not sure what kind of things you have back in the Jedi Temple, but this stuff made me feel a little more at home when I had to do this whole thing.”

“Keeasi,” he chuckles with a smile, “you didn’t have to do this.”

She rolls her eyes, making a point of ignoring him. “Some tea,” she says, placing a tin of tea on the table, “Alderaan loose leaf.” She smiles as she says this, remembering he’s fond of it. “Some Jawa Cakes -- not made of Jawas, although that’d probably be healthier,” she jokes, placing the package of snacks on the table beside the tea, “some books-- oh,” she pauses, taking one off the top of the pile of three. “Not that one, though.”

“Hold on,” he laughs, leaning forward and reaching out to snatch it out of his hands. “I might like it, for all you know,” he smirks and takes a look at the cover. “ _ Love in the Lower Levels, _ ” he reads aloud, glancing up to Keeasi, now grinning ear to ear. “Keeasi, are you telling me there’s some romantic sentiment in there?”

Keeasi frowns and reaches out, snatching the book back. “Gimme that,” she snaps, causing him to chuckle. “I can go, you know.”

Obi-Wan crosses his arms, the smile not going anywhere. “What else is in the box, then?” 

She exhales, returning her attention to the contents of the box. “Some holotapes,” she says, distinctively unceremoniously compared to the previous items, dropping them on the table. 

“I very much appreciate it,” he says, watching as she sits back down. “Will you stay a while?” He asks.

Keeasi blinks, her breath catching in her throat. She’d fully intended to stay to have a chat, but something about  _ hearing _ that is… “I’d planned to,” she replies, relaxing into the seat. “It’s my turn to ask how  _ you _ are.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but stops, the smile dropping. “I suppose you want me to be honest, don’t you?” He asks. 

“You always want the same of me.”

“Fair,” he replies. He takes a minute, his eyes focusing on the objects on the table as he continues. “I’ve certainly been better. The Duchess…” he trails off for a moment. “Satine was… I think I may have denied a lot of things about how I felt. And while I know things couldn’t have been different, realistically, without being disastrous… I don’t think I fully realised how much I’d come to regret.” He looks back to Keeasi, his eyes meeting hers. “The clarity that comes with hindsight is tragic, really.” 

She can feel her face soften without meaning to. “I’m so sorry.”

“Did you ever meet her?” He asks. He watches Keeasi shake his head, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “It’s a shame. I think you would have gotten along spectacularly.” He pauses, reaching up to scratch his beard. “I’d hoped to introduce you, actually?”

“Really?” She asks. 

He nods. “I thought that, maybe,” he muses, crossing his arms, “after this war, you might be able to offer your skills in her service. It wouldn’t have been as luxurious as working for the Chancellor, of course, but you would have been doing very good work with her.” He exhales. “Perhaps I should have done so sooner rather than later. I wonder if you may have changed the outcome.”

She frowns. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“No, I think you might have,” he insists. “Keeasi, I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but you’re…” he pauses. “I want you to know that I think you’re one of the most capable and exceedingly talented individuals I’ve worked with. You’re brilliant.” He takes a second. “I’m going to start doing that more, I think.”

She chuckles. “Complimenting people?”

He shakes his head. “No, telling people how I feel. I’ve decided it’s not a regret I enjoy carrying.” He nods to himself. “I should have requested your help earlier, but I hesitated. Didn’t want you to feel obligated to my personal affairs.”

“Personal affairs?” Keeasi scoffs. “Kenobi, come on. I thought we were friends.” She offers him a smile. “I wouldn’t have thought twice about helping you with something important to you.” She frowns, remembering that she threw him out of her room the last time they spoke. No wonder he didn’t ask her. “I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise,” she adds.

“It’s alright,” he assures her. “I should have given you space when you’d first asked.”

There’s a silence following this. Keeasi knows a  _ lot _ about men and how they operate, and Jedi or not, she knows a man hiding grief when she sees one. “She sounds wonderful,” she says, trying to be gentle in her tone. 

“She was,” he agrees. “She absolutely was.” His eyes seem locked on the table below, but she can tell he’s not really looking at anything specific. 

Keeasi’s not really sure what else to say. Again -- what  _ do _ you say in a situation like this. She’s never really felt like that about anyone, but at the same time, Keeasi’s never been forbidden to do so. 

All Keeasi can think to do is reach out, placing her hand on the table and offering it to her friend. It’s almost instinctive, and while she’s unsure if he’ll even take it, it’s like there’s something compelling her to do so, like there’s a voice in the room only she can hear.

He does take it. She gives his hand a gentle squeeze, and they sit together in silence for as long as he needs.  
  


* * *

_ “Let’s just leave,” she pleads, “I can get us an unregistered ship. We can go now, we can--” _

_ He shakes his head, moving in to brush her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, but I have to do this.” _

_ She's tears as he leans in to kiss the top of her head. “This is our only chance to be together,” she sobs, “without the Order, without the Republic, away from this… please, don’t leave me.” _

  
He sits up this time, feeling as though he hasn't slept at all.

This is too many times to be a coincidence now. He needs to warn her, despite what it might force him to admit.

* * *

Keeasi’s palms are sweating. She’s been data-mining and sifting through code for days to try and get to the bottom of this murder, and she’s found something… well, what she’s found it alarming enough that she feels, for the first time, obligated to present her findings in an emergency meeting with the Chancellor.

“Agent Denn,” the Chancellor begins when she enters his office, gesturing for her to take a seat. “I must say, the tone of your message has left me quite concerned. Is everything alright?”

She places a datapad on the desk before sitting, taking a deep breath. "I was going through the confidential information regarding the Clone murder you sent me,” she expains, trying to stay calm. Surely, this is all a misunderstanding, and the Chancellor can clear things up for her. “I was going through some encrypted information in the chip’s dataset and I found… I found this.” She watches him carefully as he reads.

“Order 66…” he reads to himself, frowning.

“Chancellor, this could be a serious defect in the Clone army. If someone was able to accidentally bypass the access measures and give this order, the Jedi--”

“I’m aware, Agent Denn.” He calmly places the datapad down on his desk and gives her a gentle smile. “I’m aware.”

Keeasi, for the first time in a long time, is unable to hide her shock. “Chancellor, you… you  _ know _ about this?”

He gives a nod, taking the datapad and placing it into his desk drawer. “Agent Denn, once again, you have gone above and beyond expectation. This… ‘order’ is a contigency plan,” he explains. “I’m sure, during your research, you’ll come to encounter many more of them.” The Chancellor laces his fingers together, resting his hands on the desk. “There are contingencies for all kinds of scenarios programmed into the Clone Army,” he explains, “but the truth is that they’ll never be used. They’re purely for emergency scenarios. Why,” he chuckles to himself with a smile, “if you do enough digging, you’ll find there’s an order to execute me if needed. There’s even one for Intelligence Operatives. All bases needed to be covered -- I’m sure a woman as well versed in the workings of human nature such as yourself can understand.”

It makes sense, Keeasi admits to herself, but it feels… wrong. “Do the Jedi know about this?” She asks. 

“No,” he says quickly. “And I’m afraid I must give you the order to keep it that way,” he explains. “There mere ideas of such programming could cause…” he takes a second, mulling over the word, “a distinct lack of confidence during a time when confidence is needed most.” He locks eyes with her. “You understand, Agent Denn, I’m sure.”

Keeasi has no choice but to nod. The idea of these orders are… it makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and her skin feel cold. But he’s right. During war and even in in her regular operations, there’s always a contigency plan, a plan b. Why should this be any different? “Of course, Chancellor,” she says with a nod. “Thank you for clarifying that.”

“And I must remind you,” he says, frowning, “that if you were to speak of this outside this room to anyone, including your Jedi friends, I would be forced to… well, it would be treason.”

A chill breezes through her. Something about this is very, very wrong. “Of course,” she assures him. “I serve yourself and the Republic, not the Jedi.” 

Keeasi bids the Chancellor farewell and makes her way back to her quarters, nothing about this sitting right with her, despite knowing that the Chancellor is correct. This is how things need to be, especially during war. With all the secrets Keeasi has to carry, what’s one more?

And yet, in her head, she can’t fight the temptation to create a contingency plan of her own: What will she do with Obi-Wan if it comes to that?


	13. Terror

“Anakin told me what you did.”

She really, really wishes Obi-Wan hadn’t come to her apartment. God, she’s too upset to even move right now, let alone defend herself. She sits on her couch, staring out over the horizon of Coruscant, trying to -- well, she’s not even trying, really. She lost the fight to hold back tears nearly an hour ago. All she can do now is try to keep her crying quiet and dignified. 

Ahsoka Tano has left the Jedi order, despite Keeasi’s best efforts to supply her defence with the best information and evidence possible. A secret favor she was willing to grant for them in repayment for the ways they’d helped her, one she absolutely could be convicted for. Keeasi has actively and covertly worked against the orders of the Republic, and she has failed. “I’m so sorry,” she says quietly. “I really thought I’d help. I’ve let you down.”

“Let us down?” He repeats, laughing and taking a seat beside her. “Keeasi, you saved her from death. Ahsoka is alive in part because of you.” Keeasi is, of course, aware of how high the stakes were. Ahsoka was charged with sedition and murder, the penalty being execution. 

“But she’s been expelled from the Order,” she argues.

Obi-Wan exhales. “Actually,” he begins, scratching at his beard, “she was pardoned. We asked her to return. She…” he pauses. “She refused.”

Keeasi looks to him for the first time since his arrival, confused. “Why?” She asks. “Being a Jedi was…” 

“Her life?” He offers. “It was, yes… but the funny thing about life is that you find other meanings to it along the way.” He shakes his head. “It’s common to question the Jedi Order, especially at her age. Even I did so in my youth,” he adds with a shrug. “But the choice was hers and hers alone, even if I wish the outcome had been different.”

“If I’d just found something else,” Keeasi says, wiping her face. “If I’d just had more information, something more tangible--”

“You did above and beyond what you needed to,” he assures her. “Need I remind you what you had at risk?” He asks. “I’d hate to think what you’d lose if you were tried for treason.” Obi-Wan pauses, watching her for a moment. “...You aren’t used to failure, are you?”

Keeasi blinks, thinking this over. “I’ve failed before,” she replies. “I’m not perfect.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t mean small things lilt non-critical missions. I mean failing despite your best effort, in ways that affect the world around you.” He watches her quietly for a moment. “No,” he says, shaking your head. “You’re too ruthless for that.” They share another silence, Keeasi, doing her best to calm herself, before he speaks again. “Despite how you feel, you did a very selfless thing,” he says. “When Anakin told me he was going to ask you for help, I didn’t think you’d say yes to it. And when he insisted, I told him to send Padme to ask you.”

This manages to fish a little smile out of her. “It’s how I knew it was so serious,” she explains. “Anakin wouldn’t come and ask me for help in person unless it was critical.”

“I don’t think he’ll ever admit it,” he chuckles to himself, resting back into the couch and joining her in looking over the horizon, “but Anakin considers you to be quite a friend. I imagine he’ll remember this.”

“I was just doing my job.”

“Somehow, I don’t think committing light treason is part of your duties,” he jokes. She laughs at this, the act of doing so giving her a little relief. “For someone so afraid of failure, you certainly don’t give yourself enough credit.” He scoffs to himself. “ _Just doing your job._ ”

“I don’t know how familiar you are with Intelligence Operations,” she laughs, “but everything I do is just part of the job. ...Except the light treason.”

Obi-Wan gives her a side glance. “Keeasi, at the risk of sounding off colour, you’ve… been _covert_ with a quarter of the senate by now, and I don’t even want to think about you being in one of those pleasure houses -- and it’s all been in service of the Republic. I struggle to think of many who’d do the same, Intelligence or not. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you are absolutely exceptional.”

She pauses -- it’s a nice gesture, but something about that has caught her attention. “...What does that mean?” She asks.

“What does what mean?”

“You said you don’t want to think of me in a pleasure house,” Keeasi points out. “What do you mean by that?”

He might not think she’ll notice, but Keeasi immediately picks up on the way he shifts in his seat. “Well, you know,” he begins. Keeasi tries her best to withhold judgement, despite being able to clearly see he’s speaking on the fly. “They’re not nice places, what, with the type of men who visit.”

She raises an eyebrow, holding back the urge to smirk. “Is that so?” She asks. “Because I honestly found most of the clients to be completely non-problematic.”

“Well, I,” he stammers a little, taking a second to think. “I’m just happier knowing you’re where you are in life.”

“But _why?_ ” She presses. “It’s not like my job is any safer now -- if anything, I’m in more danger than ever.”

He frowns, turning to face her. “Keeasi, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Then why did you say it?” Her voice rises a little.

“Why are you taking such offence?” His rises to match.

“Because you’re the only person I’ve ever met who’s never judged me, Kenobi!” She snaps. “And I’d hate to think I was wrong about that.”

His shoulders drop, visibly frustrated. “I’ve _never_ judged you--”

“And thinking I was somehow a victim,” she continues, ignoring whatever excuse he has, her voice raising again “is no different to thinking--”

“I said that because I don’t like the idea!” He insists. “That’s all!”

She stands, having a feeling this argument is probably going to lead to her asking him to leave. “Why?!” She asks again. “No matter what you think of me now, that’s part of what made me who I am and I’m not going to be ashamed of it because some high and mighty Jedi has a problem wi--”

“It’s because I’m jealous!” He shouts, shooting to his feet, standing face to face with her. Keeasi’s face drops, and she falls completely silent. “The thought of it makes me…” he runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. Keeasi is, for once, completely speechless as she watches the weight of what he’s just admitted all but crush him. Beneath the look of exasperation, there’s something else, something she’d describe as a panic, or even fear. She tries to think of something to say, anything, but the words just seem to escape before she can grasp them. 

Eventually, she finds… something. “You’re emotionally compromised.” It’s all she can think of, really, because it’s what she’s telling herself. She realises how this must look. She’s staring at him, eyes wide and teary, mouth agape as she tried to process this. What’s really making her seize up is that… there’s a part of her that feels like it knew this, like she’s been waiting for it, as disastrous as it may be for them -- especially for him -- and the thought of Obi-Wan suffering makes her chest feel tight and her stomach churn and…

Oh no. Oh _no._

“You’re right,” he says, his voice quiet, looking downwards at the floor, seemingly ashamed. “I… I apologise. This is… I should go.”

Obi-Wan moves to leave, but before he can fully turn from her, she grabs him by the sleeve. “How long?” She asks, causing him to turn back to her. 

“...Keeasi, I should--”

“How. Long?” She presses, well aware tears are escaping her eyes again, all care for her dignity lost. 

The Jedi hesitates, taking another deep breath, waiting until he fully exhales to speak. “When you told me how you’re a better shot than I am,” he recalls.

Her hand slides down from his sleeve to his hand, holding on to it. “That long?” She asks with a laugh.

“That long,” he replies, smiling in return. “I honestly thought I’d never see you again after I got you through customs. I’m glad I was wrong.”

She nods, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m emotionally compromised, too,” she admits. “My memory isn’t as good as yours, though,” she jokes. 

Obi-Wan reaches up and brushes a loose lock of her hair behind her ear, a new tenderness in his expression that… well, she’s never really seen that before -- but she likes it, all the same. “Never has been.” 

She wants to kiss him. She wants to kiss him _so badly_ and every part of her instinct is telling her to -- and it’s right then that she realises what she’s doing. Keeasi quickly pulls away, taking her hand back as if his hand has somehow stung hers. “What am I doing?” She asks herself out loud. “You’re a Jedi. No, this is… I can’t.” A panic washes over her. He’ll be expelled from the Order, and her? She’s spent her entire career of service to the Chancellor assuring him that she’s loyal to the Republic, that her friendship with Obi-Wan won’t cause any kind of compromise to her loyalty. And yet, somehow, despite knowing how disastrous this could turn, the thought of being without him makes her chest hurt and her heart race and her skin feel cold. “We can’t.” Keeasi looks to him, and for the first time in their entire history, she allows herself to truly show him how she’s feeling -- absolutely terrified. 

“No, we can’t,” he agrees, albeit quietly enough that it makes her think he’s as unhappy as she is. “What do you want to do?” he asks her.

The question shocks her somewhat. There are options? If there are, she can’t think of any. “I can’t ask you to…” she trails off, not even wanting to entertain that. “We get on with our lives,” she finally says, her voice shaking a little.

He nods. “Yes, that seems to be the best way.” He pauses, taking in her expression. “It’s going to be alright,” he assures her. “We’ll deal with the war first, and then, maybe…”

Keeasi thinks this over, but it’s brief. “We’ll revisit this after the war,” she agrees. “Jedi or not, this isn’t the right time.”

His commlink starts to beep, the familiar voice of Master Window piping through. _“Master Kenobi,”_ the voice begins, _“are you available to come to the Council Chambers? It’s urgent.”_

Obi-Wan gives her an apologetic look and taps the device. “Yes, I’ll be right there.” He closes the link, reaching out and taking her hand again, giving a gentle squeeze. “Will you be alright?” He asks her. 

“I’ll be fine,” Keeasi nods, taking a sharp breath in an attempt to calm herself, offering him a smile. “It sounds important.”

Kenobi gives her hand a squeeze again and hesitates for a moment, as if he wants to say something. He doesn’t though, and part of her is thankful for this small act of mercy as she watches him leave. 

Once the door closes, she buries her face in her hands, an explosion of emotion tumbling out as she doubles over and sobs. Keeasi has no idea what to feel or do, and for the first time in her life, the uncertainty of the future doesn’t excite her -- it terrifies her. 

By some miracle, she manages to hear her own commlink beep. Not a voice transmission, though, a text message. She immediately opens the message, paranoid that somehow, someone saw what just happened, that her new and terrible secret was exposed. 

_‘Agent Denn._ _  
_ _Report to Intelligence Centre immediately._  
Jedi reporting that Chancellor has been intercepted by Count Dooku.

_Need orders ASAP.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for things to get way, way, way worse.
> 
> Thanks for all the comments! They're a huge motivator for me and the feedback gets me writing faster, so thanks for keeping me on track!


	14. Panic

Keeasi can’t exactly say she’s comfortable waiting for Obi-Wan outside of the Jedi Council’s rooms, she can at least take comfort in knowing it’s a matter of good news. Count Dooku is dead, the Supreme Chancellor has been rescued, and they’re one step closer to the war being over. The Chancellor has requested she retrieve him for a formal debriefing with Intelligence and some of the Senators, and although she’s happy to oblige the Chancellor’s request, she’s anxious about seeing him again. 

She stays to the side when the doors open, allowing the other members of the Council to pass, giving them polite nods of acknowledgement as they do to her -- when Obi-Wan greets her with a small smile, she feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. “Master Kenobi,” she begins, arms behind her back as he separates from the group to approach her.

“Agent Denn,” he replies. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

It’s his standard way of greeting her in professional settings, but she finds herself feeling a little warm in the face, regardless. “The Chancellor has requested, if it’s convenient for you, that you give a quick debriefing for Intelligence and some of the more involved Senators,” she explains. She feels a little more at ease, anyway. Part of her worries that someone else is going to notice… something about them, but by all outside appearances, this is a normal conversation. It helps that she’s in full dress uniform today for the briefing, perfect hair, red lipstick and all.

He gives a nod, gesturing for her to follow him. “Of course.” They move to leave the Temple, heading for the transports to the Senate Plaza. “How have Intelligence Operations been, then?” He asks as she walks alongside him. 

“Good,” she replies. “We’ve received a wealth of information that should hopefully, now that Dooku is neutralised, bring this war closer to an end than ever. How is Anakin?” She asks.

He chuckles, leading her down the stairs of the entryways. “Receiving a hero’s welcome with the rest of the Senate, I presume.”

“And not you?” She asks.

He shrugs, “I’ve never been one for politics, I’m afraid.” 

They come to the transport platform, Keeasi leading him to the transport that’s specially requisitioned for her use around Coruscant. “For diplomatic matters,” she explains, noticing the look on his face when the entry opens for them. 

He peers around the front of the transport. It’s entirely segregated from the cabin, manned by a service droid. “Private driver and all.”

The two step inside, taking a seat. It’s as if they wait until the transport is in motion to speak, like there’s a secret convention that will keep their words safe. “I was worried,” she says, the professional demeanor faltering, her voice softening. “I read some of the early reports.”

“Luckily, Anakin came through.” He smiles softly to himself. 

“You must be quite proud of him.”

“You have no idea.” He pauses. “Although, I must say, we wouldn’t have found him so easily if not for the tracking signal you provided us.”

She shrugs. “It was actually surprisingly easy,” she laughs, “I’m not being humble. It was like he wanted us to find him.”

“I don’t doubt it. A likely trap.” He takes a second to watch the buildings pass through the window. “Keeasi,” he begins, “I want to talk to you about something I’ve been keeping to myself for… a long time.” He quickly looks to her. “Something else. Although, I suppose you could say it’s related to our...”

“Predicament?” She offers.

“Yes.” Obi-Wan nods. “I… Anakin has…” he takes a second. “Anakin and Senator Amidala have been... “

“Involved?” She offers again. He looks to her, a little confused, but still nodding. “I know.”

Obi-Wan blinks. “You do?”

She shrugs. “I knew before the war broke out.”

He looks completely dumbstruck, and a little indignant, too. “And you never said anything?”

“I didn’t want to get them in trouble.” She pauses. “I mean, I don’t exactly see you telling Anakin about… you know…”

“Need I ask  _ how  _ you know?” 

Keeasi leans back into her seat, a triumphant smile on her face. “I’m the Agent Commander for a reason, Kenobi. What was the world you used?” She teases. “... _ Brilliant, _ that was it.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but stops himself, giving a frustrated sigh. “Well, regardless, perhaps… perhaps when this is over, this war…” he stares at the floor for a moment. “It appears that they’ve been relatively untroubled. They both seem content.”

“Are you suggesting we pursue…” she waves around between the two of them, “ _ this _ in secret?” It’s Keeasi’s turn to give a surprised blink now. “But your vows...”

He scoffs, crossing his arms. “They aren’t  _ vows, _ Keeasi.”

“Your beliefs, then,” she stammers. “However you’d describe it -- isn’t this all forbidden? Do you really want to go down that path?”

She watches him cross his arms, frowning in thought. “That’s something I need to meditate on,” he finally admits. “My Master would often argue that there’s nothing in the Jedi Code that specifically prohibits such a thing,” he smiles to himself. “Actually,” he chuckles, “he’d often argue the opposite. Quite passionately. I suspect it might have been a contributing fact to his refusal to join the Council,” the Jedi remarks. “Emotions and feelings are… natural. They’re unavoidable parts of life,” he explains. “Why, we aren’t even expected to be celebate. It’s the attachment that causes the concern.”

Keeasi’s eyes widen -- this is all news. She’d seen Jedi sneaking in and out of pleasure houses before, sure, but she just figured they weren’t very good at being Jedi. Good to know. “So you can do everything else, just not… actually be  _ together?” _ She asks.

Obi-Wan nods. “Yes. And while I thought I was at peace with that… losing Satine... “ he trails off for a moment. “Losing Satine has caused me to ask the same questions from a different perspective.”

“I see,” she gives a solemn nod, thinking this over herself. She’s the Agent Commander, and if anyone is going to be capable of keeping and covering up a secret like that, it’s her. But there’s something niggling at her, something… something she feels like someone has said to her before, but she absolutely can’t remember who. It’s imprinted on her mind, like a memory that’s been painted over with something else. “We have our roles to play,” she says. “We shouldn’t worry ourselves with this until after the war.”

“Of course,” he agrees. “But if you find the time, perhaps you can give it some thought, as I will be.” Obi-Wan reaches forward, taking her hand again and giving it a squeeze, their eyes meeting. It’s a brief gesture, but she’s coming to find it to be something that’s ‘theirs,’ the same as others would find a kiss or embrace. 

The transport begins to dock at the Senate Plaza’s landing pad and he lets go of her hand, giving her a last, gentle smile before they both have to raise their guards again. She stands, ready to exit as soon as the doors open, hands behind her back again in her professional stance. As soon as she’s able, she gestures for Obi-Wan to follow her, leading him into the Senate Tower. 

They step into an elevator, just the two of them, Obi-Wan behind her, and she feels his hand on her hip. Her eyes widen as he leans in, and somehow she can  _ feel _ him smirking. “I forgot to tell you,” he whispers, “you should wear your dress uniform more often. It’s very becoming.”

She turns her head to glare at him, but he merely shrugs and steps back again, the two of them resuming their positions as the doors of the elevator open again, and she begins to lead him through the Senate halls.

* * *

“Agent Denn,” the Chancellor says with a smile, gesturing to the seat at his desk as per usual. “Come, sit, we have much to discuss.”

“It’s good to see you unharmed, Chancellor,” she says, taking the seat, returning his smile.

The Chancellor grins at this. “Yes, well, I have you to thank for that. Without your hard work, who knows how long it would have taken the Jedi to find me.” He pauses. “Which… brings me to the reason I’ve brought you here.” His face falls. “The Senate have, in their wisdom, given me an extension of my emergency powers.” He frowns. “It seems I’m now to have direct control over the Jedi Council.”

“I... “ Keeasi stops herself, remembering who she’s talking to. “I’m sorry, Chancellor -- I wasn’t aware that was possible.” ‘

He frowns, giving a slight shrug. “Neither was I,” he remarks, taking a second to rise from his seat. Keeasi moves to rise along with him, as is protocol, but he gestures for her to stop. “Please, sit,” he says gently, moving to a small cabinet in the wall behind his desk as she once again obliges, a little confused. “Tell me, Agent Denn, what do you know of the Jedi?” He asks. 

Keeasi hesitates to respond, a little more interested in the fact she can see him remove two glasses from the cabinet. It has to be some of the most expensive crystal she’s ever seen -- and she’s been inside a lot of Senate apartments. “As much as my missions have required me to, Chancellor,” she replies. He also retrieves a bottle of wine, which… well, he’s never done this before.

“And what of their history?” He asks, placing down the glasses and wine on the desk. 

She shifts in her seat, watching as he pours wine into the two glasses. “I have to apologise, Chancellor. I didn’t have a formal education. My knowledge is limited.”

He gives a sympathetic smile at this, pushing one of the glasses in front of her. “Don’t apologise. I suspect you wouldn’t have learned the  _ true _ history of the Jedi… it’s hardly one taught in schools.” He nods to the glass, lifting his own. “Please, I insist, it’s Alderaanian. A fine vintage.” he explains. The Chancellor seems to be waiting for Keeasi to drink, so, again, she obliges, taking the glass and taking a sip. He’s not wrong -- while Keeasi is hardly a connoisseur, it’s sweeter than most reds. Fruity, almost. “Do you know of the Great Hyperspace War, Agent Denn?” 

Keeasi nods. “Yes, I’d say have a brief understanding.” ‘Brief’ is being generous. It’s a war that happened over 5,000 years ago, and her understanding really just comes from stories and relics she’s seen being traded illegally. Keeasi hasn’t exactly had time or reason to sit down and study. 

“And do you know what happened  _ after _ the war?” He asks. Keeasi raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. “The Sith, obviously were defeated… but have you ever heard of the holocaust that followed?” He watches her again, waiting to continue. “The Supreme Chancellor at the time, Pultimo, feared the Sith Empire would return. So he ordered the destruction of…” he pauses and takes a sip, mulling over his words. “Everything. Their temples, texts, cities, people…” He pauses. “The Sith were a race back then,” he explains. “Not just the opposing force to the Jedi. The Sith were a people, native to Korriban.” He frowns, exhaling and watching Keeasi take a polite sip of her wine. “Civilians, the old and frail, the women and children… the Jedi slaughtered all of them without question.” 

She frowns. “That seems against their ways,” she remarks.

“Indeed,” he says with a nod. “A few managed to escape the holocaust, of course,” he notes, “which led to the establishment of the ‘Sith’ as we’ve come to know it, as a… choice, a belief, a philosphy. Ironic that the Jedi’s greatest fear is that which they themselves created.” He places his wine back on the table. “A fear of life’s greatest aspects, a fear of passion, emotion, love.”

“It’s my understanding,” Keeasi begins, feeling a little emboldened by the conversation veering onto something she’s familiar with, “that the Jedi aren’t forbidden to love, Chancellor. I’ve been told it’s the attachment of relationships that’s forbidden.”

The Chancellor smirks, a look of pleasant surprise written all over his face. “Have you, now?” He asks. “I must say, Agent Denn, I find that very,  _ very _ interesting.” As she takes another sip of the wine, she can’t help but notice he seems to be stifling a chuckle. “And, speaking of such topics… I wanted to express some concerns.”

Her stomach drops. Oh no. “Concerns?” She asks, trying to feign ignorance but still taking the chance to nervously sip some more wine. She shouldn’t be nervous, there’s nothing to be nervous about. She hasn’t done anything wrong, she hasn’t crossed any lines or broken any codes, she’s just… maybe broken a small promise she made to the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic about staying professional. That’s all. 

“Yes,” he sighs. “I worry for your friend’s Apprentice,” he begins, her shoulders relaxing as soon as it clicks with her that this won’t be about  _ her. _ “Anakin… I’ve known him since he was a small boy, as have you, I believe.” Keeasi feels her eyebrow twitch -- she doesn’t remember telling him that. Maybe Anakin told him. “I have my concerns that he may be at risk, what, with his involvement with the Senator.”

“Is there reason for such concern, Chancellor?” She asks.

He nods. “The Jedi council will be deeply unhappy with this change to constitution, and if we are to use history as a lesson, the Jedi have always been incredibly quick to double down on dissent when threatened by external circumstances.” He shrugs. “I hope, of course, that I am incorrect, but I plan to appoint Anakin as my personal representative to the Council.”

Keeasi thinks this over. Anakin is familiar to the Council, and has never served on it, making him relatively unbiased yet friendly, she supposes. “I wasn’t aware he is a Master.”

“He isn’t. Not yet,” the Chancellor says. “But I imagine he is well due to ascend.” He leans forward a little, lacing his hands together and resting them on the surface of the desk. “Agent Denn, I worry more and more about the Jedi Council with every passing day. They push for more control, closed off by their own secrecy, almost fanatically obsessed with maintaining their own autonomy. I imagine that my new emergency powers will not be welcome news, and I worry that their ideals are at odds with democracy.” 

“I see,” she replies quietly, setting down her own glass. She can’t say she’s ever heard anything of the like during the war campaign, but she’s also never really been privy to whatever it is the Council does during their meetings. “Then assigning Anakin as your representative is a wise choice, Chancellor.”

His eyes are locked on her for another beat before he exhales. “Agent Denn, a time may come soon where your loyalty to the Republic may be tested,” he glances downwards to his hands. “I must ask you to once again do something selfless for the sake of our democracy.”

She frowns, straightening up. Orders time. “Of course, Chancellor,” she replies. “What can I do?”

“As a member of the Jedi Council, Obi-Wan Kenobi will be deeply involved with any Jedi conspiracies, if they exist,” he explains. Her chest tightens. She hates where this is going. “You are close, we have established this, and I must ask you to take advantage of your…” he pauses. “...Your  _ friendship. _ ” Her blood runs absolutely cold. Frozen. He knows. Or, at the least, the Chancellor is suspicious. But how? How on earth could he possibly know? They’ve done everything right. 

No, she tells herself. There’s no way he knows. He probably just suspects something. He did when she first became Agent Commander, after all. “You’d like me to see what I can find out, Chancellor?” She asks, attempting to steer the conversation somewhere less confronting. 

“I would be most grateful, yes,” he agrees. “I usually try not to give in to such paranoia… but the Jedi’s history of genocide means we must be sure. I’m sure you can understand. I would hate to see what may happen to Anakin and Senator Amidala if their relationship were to be discovered during such times.” He pauses, locking eyes with her. “I wouldn’t wish such a thing on anyone.” 

Keeasi, once again, shifts uncomfortably in the seat. “Of course, Chancellor. I’ll report as soon as I have sufficient information.”

She moves to rise, believing it to be the end of their conversation, but the Senator stays seated, picking up his glass of wine and very slightly swirling the contents. “It’s a tragedy, isn’t it, the loss of the Duchess of Mandalore,” he remarks, almost as if to himself alone. She pauses, waiting for him to continue. “To lose such a long-standing love to such violence? And without ever being able to fully express their feelings? It must leave such a void, one I imagine must be impossible to truly fill.” He takes another sip, placing the now empty glass back down a final time. “Ironically, Sith philosophy would have allowed them to spend their lives together.”

“What do you mean?” She asks.

“Oh, merely that the Sith  _ embrace  _ ideals such as passion. If anything, such a relationship would have been encouraged,” he remarks nonchalantly. “As a man of politics, I must make sure to be well read in all philosophies and viewpoints -- and that was always an aspect of the Jedi’s oppositional force that I found interesting. It’s interesting the things you learn when you realise that all matters are just that -- different points of view.” He shrugs. “You must forgive me, Agent Denn,” he says with a laugh, “here I am, spouting philosophy when I’ve just given you important work to do! Part of my age, I’m afraid,” he jokes. “I suppose Obi-Wan will be alright, he seems to be seeking counsel with Senator Amidala more and more these days, who I can assure you is quite the empath.”

She blinks. He’s been  _ what? _ “Counsel, Chancellor?” She asks. 

He shrugs. “My security team has noticed him coming and going from her apartments quite often as of late,” he explains. Before Keeasi can press this, however, he rises from his seat, giving her a nod of acknowledgement. “Thank you, Agent Denn, for hearing me out during such tumultuous times. Truely, you are one of the very few I can truly trust.”

“I’m honored, Chancellor,” she replies, giving a slight, military bow as befitting of her station in return before turning and taking her leave. 

She begins a course to return to her apartments, needing to do some work at her own private terminal -- but a cold feeling sinks in over her, an icy feeling seeming to run down her spine, causing her stomach to feel as though it’s twisting with anxiety. The security offices. Her instincts seem to flip and insist she go to the security offices to look for footage of Obi-Wan coming and going from Padme’s apartment. Keeasi’s not sure  _ why _ she feels like this. Realistically, he has plenty of reason to do so -- she’s a Senator that they’ve  _ all _ been working closely with during the war, and regardless of the exacts of her relationship with Anakin, she’s very close to his apprentice. 

And yet, despite her best logic… Keeasi is unable to shake the feeling that she’s going to lose sleep if she doesn’t check the security footage  _ right now. _

Despite something very unsettling being in the air, she gives in, and Keeasi makes her way to the security offices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be honest -- I am thriving on everyone's anxiety right now. I'm not even mad.
> 
> Just a heads up that my partner and I are moving house this week, and as I work full time it's gonna eat up a lot of my time, so please forgive me if my updates become sporadic!


	15. Change

“I know that you know this,” Obi-Wan begins, the two of them sitting in her apartment once again, “but we’ve located Grievous.” It’s another visit on the sly -- something that was meant to be a one off and has become, over the short time since his confession, a regular occurrence. So regular that it managed to alleviate her anxiety over his brief visits to Padme, which, as it turns out, was only once or twice. “He’s hiding in the--”

“Utapau system?” Keeasi finishes. “I know. I sent the report to the Council.” She pauses, frowning. “Is this your way of telling me you’re going?” she asks.

She watches him nod, looking away, almost like he’s ashamed of being caught out. “Yes,” he replies with an exhale. “It is.” He takes a second to continue, and she can tell he’s using this time to find the right words. He’s always so careful. “Keeasi, there’s something important I need to ask you, as a... “

“Whatever we are?” She offers.

Obi-Wan gives a single chuckle. “You should be a Jedi.”

“You should be less predictable.”

He gives pause, smiling, eyeing her as she smirks. Eventually, though, the smile fades, and Keeasi knows he needs to talk to her about something important. “I know you serve the Chancellor directly,” he begins. Oh no. “But this change in the constitution has… I don’t think I need to tell you what it means.” He watches her carefully, visibly reading her face, gauging her reaction. “Just be wary -- not that I’m suggesting you’d be anything else.”

Keeasi, on one hand, can see he’s concerned, but again, that cold feeling sets over her and she remembers what the Chancellor told her. “Obi-Wan,” she begins, her voice a little quieter than usual, a fear washing over her. “I know we both have our secrets to keep, but… if I was in danger, you’d give me a heads up, right?”

“Of course I would,” he says with a laugh. His smile fades quickly, though. “You say that as if we’re on opposite sides.”

“Are we?” She asks.

He takes his time to respond, watching her carefully, reading her face. “The Republic and the Jedi?” He asks. “I have my concerns. You and I, though?” He pauses, looking as though he’s deep in though. It’s momentary, though -- he takes her hand in his, gently pulling her towards him, leaning in very, very gently kissing her. “No, we aren’t,” he says quietly when they pull away. 

She wants to be happy, she really does, but the issue is that Keeasi knows the value of a kiss is entirely dependent on the person who’s kissing you. Recently minted Senators looking to enjoy the newly found social benefits that come with power? Not worth a lot, anyone would do it and they know it. Lonely men sneaking into a pleasure house at midnight? Worth a little, they  _ need _ it. But a member of the Jedi council who has lived their life denying themselves such pleasures? It’s priceless, incredibly significant, and carries a great weight. 

Keeasi feels a pang in her chest. He’s usually so reserved when it comes to expressing these kinds of emotions. She wonders if this is possibly a goodbye kiss. 

“I suppose there’s no chance of me coming with you, is there?” She asks. 

He shakes his head, rising from the couch. “Not this time,” he replies. A weak smile appears in his expression. “Besides, I need you to look after Anakin.”

She laughs, although it’s half-hearted, and she knows there’s little she can do to hide that from him, standing to see him off. “Only if you look after yourself.”

He reaches out, taking her hand in his again and giving it another gentle squeeze. “This isn’t a goodbye, I promise,” he assures her, as if he’s known what she wants to ask all along.

* * *

The next few days are relatively uneventful. Keeasi continues to listen in on reports, and combs through everything she can find for reports on the Utapau system, but day after day, nothing related seems to land on her desk. Either nothing  _ has _ happened yet, or information is being withheld from her -- which is out of the question.

And then, just as she’s beginning to contemplate jumping into a transport and heading to the Utapau System herself -- it happens. Contact is made. The battle begins. All she can do is listen and read for what feels like an eternity, unable to interrupt, unable to ask for a report on Obi-Wan. It’s not her job right now. She has her part to play. 

After a few hours of listening, her commlink beeps, making her jump in the seat of her office. “Agent Commander Denn,” the Chancellor’s voice says over the line. “Report to my chambers immediately.” His voice sounds off, raspy, unwell, but given the situation happening in the Utapau system, Keeasi knows it’s probably an urgent matter regardless of his health. 

“Of course, Chancellor,” she says over the line, rising from her desk and immediately leaving her office. She leaves the radios on -- she doesn’t have the heart to turn them off, as if she might miss something as she walks away, as if she needs to hear every second that she can. 

As she makes her way through the halls, she feels her adrenaline rise and breaks into a sprint, not wanting to waste a second. Even the short distance from the Intelligence Rooms is long enough for the anticipation to eat at her. In the best case scenario, the Chancellor is going to tell her the war is over. The worst case? She tries to keep the thought of the worst case from her mind. 

Pushing the doors to his office open, she freezes as soon as they close behind her. This was not at all what she’s been expecting.

At her feet lay the bodies of three Jedi. She stares at them, wide-eyed and in shock. Keeasi has seen plenty of dead bodies before, but these are wearing the robes of Jedi Knights. For them to be cut down is…  The window behind the Chancellor’s desk is smashed, the office completely exposed to the elements of the cityscape outside, the wind blowing inside freezing her skin. The office is covered in scorch marks. Something terrible has happened here.

And then she settles her gaze on the figure in black. “Agent Commander Keeasi Denn,” the figure begins, the sound of her name being spoken by his voice making her stomach lurch as reality settles on her. It’s the Chancellor. His face is horrible and deformed, twisting into a grin and exposing his yellowed, rotting teeth. “Step forward.”

Defying her instincts, she obliges, stepping over the bodies before her and slowly approaching him. Anakin stands before him, his gaze locked on to her, something deeply dark to it. It reminds her of when he shouted at her on Naboo all that time ago, but there’s something else to it that confuses her. She can’t tell if he is furious or sad. If not for Anakin’s presence, she’d think this a trick.

There’s questions to be asked, all of them seeming to wait patiently for the right moment. But it never comes, and she knows it never will. “I have terrible news,” the Chancellor begins. “The Jedi council have attempted to gain control of the Republic,” he explains, “they are enemies of the Republic, Agent Denn, and their treason must not be taken lightly.” His tone is… the only way to describe it is ‘dark,’ and yet, she can see a hint of a smirk on his face, hiding in the corners of his mouth. He gestures to Anakin. “You are to go with Lord Vader,” he instructs, “and make sure his mission is completed without resistance.” Keeasi is confused -- that’s… is it a new title? Whatever. It’s the least of her questions right now. “You are to return to me afterwards,” he says. “You will have a part to play in bringing stability back to the Republic.”

All she can really do is stammer for a moment, but eventually she builds up the courage to ask. “...What… what happened?” She asks, quickly looking back to the bodies.

“The Jedi came here to try and kill me,” he explains. “They have tried to murder me, and turn Lord Vader against me. They have sensed dissent and tried to silence it using the only language they understand: violence.” He pauses, a grin emerging, the sight of it sickening. “All will be rectified soon. Do as I command, and I will keep a place for you by my side.”

The cold feeling returns, and all she can bring herself to do is follow Anakin as he leaves for the Jedi Temple. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAN U FEEL IT, MR KRABS????


	16. Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C/N: mentions of child murder, mildly sexual situation, a situation that could potentially be read as non consensual given the context of how sith manipulation stuff works.

Her entire body is shaking, her torso quaking with each heave. Keeasi has seen horrific things during her life, from her teens, all the way through the war -- but the things she saw in the Temple… her body trembles as she heaves again, vomiting into the toilet of her apartment’s bathroom. Her sides are in agony. Her ribs feel like they’re going to break. 

She’s done a lot of things. A lot of terrible, awful things. She’s broken marriages, she’s unofficially sentenced men to death before and watched them plead her for their lives. This is her breaking point. 

They were children.  _ Children. _

When she’d first followed Anakin into the Temple with the Troopers, it was horrifying enough to watch them cut down Jedi, Knights and Padawans alike. It was all so senseless, and he cut them down like he was possessed, like he knew nothing else. 

And then she caught up with him and saw the Younglings, and for the first time in her life, Keeasi dropped her blaster and lost control. She remembered Anakin watching her, and wanting to scream, but being too scared to. All she could do was whimper and panic.

He’d moved to her, and she’d thought for a second he’d cut her down too. Instead, her blaster flew from the ground to his hand before he handed it back to her. “This is the Jedi’s doing,” he’d said as Keeasi took the blaster in her trembling hands. “Remember that.”

She glances at her blaster, which lays on the floor next to the toilet. Anakin seems to trust her. Maybe she can--

Another heave. More vomit.

The Chancellor is in important meetings, she’s told, and she will be summoned when he requires her. The cold feeling won’t go away, and every time she thinks about Obi-Wan, she can’t breathe. She’d heard a Trooper discuss Order 66. She’s too scared to check her terminal or listen to the radio, though, even though deep down she knows what this means. 

All she can do is wait. 

Knowing there’s nothing else to come up, she flushes the toilet and rises to the sink, looking at herself in the mirror. Her eyes are bloodshot, and the person she sees in the mirror is not her. Is this what she’s been working for this whole time? Is this who she’s been serving? Have they always been on the wrong side? 

She rushes to brush her teeth. No matter what she decides to do, no matter how this goes, she can’t let the Chancellor know she’s as weak as she truly feels. You never, ever let your enemy know they have the upper hand. 

Even though he isn’t her enemy. She serves the Chancellor, and is loyal to the Republic.

She flinches at her own reflection, mouth still full of toothpaste. She doesn’t want to believe that, but she knows it’s at least a little true. She’s helped them get to this point. She’s helped secure the Chancellor’s power and deseat his enemies. The things she’s done…

She spits out her toothpaste, cupping her hand under the water and slurping it into her mouth to rinse. Once she’s done spitting the water out, she cups her hand under the faucet again, splashing the water on her face, as if it would make a difference. As if it’ll wash what she’s seen away.

Keeasi decides the best thing she can do while she waits for her summons is lay in bed, pretending she’s literally anywhere else, doing anything else, with anyone else. Her eyes blurry, she walks through her apartment, trying to not lose her breath as she spots the smoking Jedi Temple from her window. 

She barely undresses, only taking off her hat, jacket and boots before laying down on her bed. She’d cry herself to sleep, but her head hurts too much. Eventually, she passes out.

* * *

“Keeasi,” a voice gently coos, a hand on her arm gently shaking her. “Keeasi,” it repeats. She opens her eyes and flinches away, her eyes wide, gasping in fear even though she should be thrilled to see him. She scrambles to sit up, feeling almost wild, terrified, coming face to face with Obi-Wan. “You’re--”

She cries out, throwing herself against him, embracing him and sobbing into his shoulder, the fabric of his robes muffling the sound of what feels like years of pent up distress releasing. He holds her as tight as he did after the Duchess of Mandalore died. “You’re okay,” she sobs, still muffled, finally looking up to face him eye to eye. “I was so worried. I… I…” He’s alive. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s  _ alive! _ “You’re okay,” she repeats to herself, the sound of it more like a whimper. “You’re okay.”

He strokes the back of her hair. “Of course I am,” he assures her. 

She shakes her head. “No. The order. I…” She squeezes her eyes shut, bracing herself for this. “I knew,” she admits. “I knew months ago. I knew and I never said anything. I should have warned you, I should have--”

“They deceived us all, Keeasi,” he interrupts. “All of us. What matters now is that you’re safe,” he says.

Keeasi feels awful. Disgusting. She feels like there’s something inside her that’s rotted to the core, like she’s been stained. But the way he looks at her...

Something washes over her. The cold feeling turns to hot. Keeasi sits herself up a little and gently places her hand on his cheek. She feels warmer, and follows the feeling, kissing him, the anxiety she’d usually feel about crossing that line washed over by the shame she already feels. It’s when she feels him kissing back that she gets the  _ rush, _ an onslaught of thoughts and feelings so in the opposite direction of the anguish she’s feeling that it makes her brain take a backseat. The kissing doesn’t stop, one turning into two, and two turning to three before she knows it. 

As if her body is on autopilot, she shifts her body, bringing herself closer to him, their bodies against each other. She places her hands against his chest, and for a moment she feels a little hesitation -- but then he places his hands on her waist and it completely dissolves with his touch.

She fully turns her body to face his, her breath deepening as the kisses grow more urgent. She rises to her knees, unbuttoning her uniform shirt, feeling his hands against her skin as she shrugs it off and turning red  _ hot _ . This is good. If she does this, he’ll stay, and he’ll live. She wants to get him out of the robes but she has no idea where to start, settling for running her hands through his hair instead. He can start that process, although he seems distracted with running his hands up her waist. If she does this, he’ll stay, and he’ll live. If she does this, he’ll stay, and he’ll live.  _ If you do this, he will stay, and he will live. _

The second she realises that’s not her voice in her head is the second he freezes up, gently but firmly pushing her away. The cold feeling comes back, and it’s so quick that it feels painful. 

The two sit on the bed for a moment, staring at each other in complete silence other than their heavy breathing. 

“Keeasi... this isn’t you,” he finally says.

It’s then the feeling comes back, the red hot, and she feels like her body is on auto-pilot again as she moves herself towards him again. “Please,” she begs him. She feels her face flush. “Just let me--”

“Keeasi,” he warns her,

“What’s wrong?” She asks, diving in to kiss at his neck.  _ “Do I not please you? _ ”

He grabs her by the shoulders, the suddenness causing her to gasp as he holds her away at arm’s length. “This isn’t you,” he reiterates, locking eyes with her. Her heart all but stops as the cold settles in again. It’s true. It’s… she can’t even explain it. It was as though she didn't recognise the words coming out of her mouth, like something else was speaking through her. “That doesn’t even _sound_ like you, Keeasi.”

“I know,” she all but whispers, horrified by her behaviour, by what she’s feeling. “I… I don’t…”

Still holding her by the shoulders, his eyes move around the room. “There’s something terribly wrong,” he warns her. “I can feel it.” She looks at him curiously. “There’s a disturbance,” he explains, before unhanding her and rising from the bed. There’s urgency in his movements, his hand resting on his lightsaber. “Stay here,” he says, locking eyes with her again. “I have to go and speak to Padme, but I’ll come back for you.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, and Keeasi watches as he all but sprints out of the room. There is something terribly wrong, she can tell -- yet all she can think of now is that he’s going to Padme. That he’s running to her arms. That Padme is who he really…

Keeasi holds her head in her hands. What’s wrong with her? This is it, isn’t it? She’s going mad. She’s heard of it before, Troopers losing their minds on the field… but she never thought anything could bring her to this. It’s like she has no control over herself anymore, like she’s ruled by emotions -- and the thought  _ terrifies her. _

And then her communicator beeps, and she feels like her heart is going to jump from her throat.

“Agent Denn,” the Chancellor orders through the small commlink on her bedside table. “Report to me immediately.”

* * *

“Chancellor, Anakin...” she’s at a loss for words. “The children…” 

“ _ Lord Vader, _ ” he corrects, “has done well to rectify the Jedi betrayal,” he replies, his voice all but a croak. “Disturbing, I understand, but perhaps if the Jedi had not walked the path of treason…” She can feel his eyes on her, watching her every move. It’s taking all she has to not tremble, to hold her composure. “He has proven himself loyal to me and the new Empire,” the Chancellor continues, “and I expect the same of you, Intelligence Commander Denn.” 

She swallows her breath. Intelligence Commander. She feels like everything is completely out of her control, and she feels totally lost in whatever is happening -- and even so, a space has been created for her in this new order of things. “Of course,” she replies, nodding her head to whatever the Chancellor has become. “I remain loyal as ever, Chancellor.” 

He smirks, the sight of his decayed teeth causing her stomach to turn. “And you shall have your chance to prove it,” he replies. “Your friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi, is also a traitor,” the Chancellor explains, “and remains a threat to the peace and stability of this Empire.” Keeasi’s stomach lurches again. He’s alive, and she’s not sure if she’s relieved or terrified by this. “He has gone seeking the comforts of Senator Amidala and will seek you out soon -- I know this. And when he does, you are to bring him to me.” There’s a long pause, the smirk showing itself in the corners of his mouth again, as if he can’t contain himself. “He must die by Vader’s hand.”

She takes a deep breath. “Are we not to trial him?” She asks.

“Do you question me?” He snaps. 

She quickly shakes her head. “No, Chancellor,” she quickly says. “I will do as you ask.”

He smirks, chuckling to himself. “Good, good.” He turns for a moment to wander back to his seat, but pauses. “I had hoped, originally, that your ways could have been used to persuade him to join his apprentice. Carry out my orders, and I will put your previous failures aside, and reward you with a place at the head of my new Empire.”

* * *

She spends the next hour sitting in her apartment, blaster in her hand, staring at it.

He went to  _ Padme. _

After that… whatever  _ that _ was that happened on the bed, he went to Padme. Of all the people to seek out. Not Anakin. Not even the Chancellor. Padme.

There’s something pushing her to be furious about this, but she can’t bring herself to do it. It’s like there’s two sides to her internal monologue that are opposite extremes, and she feels sick to her stomach. She trusts him, she  _ knows _ she trusts him, and he’d never do this to her feelings… but there’s something in her that almost  _ wants _ her to be wrong, and that something in her is alien to her, like an intruder. 

Keeasi struggles with the thought, and for some reason she seems completely unable to think of anything else. She’s so deep in thought that she doesn’t realise she forgot to lock her door. She’s so consumed by the anxiety of the situation that she doesn’t notice him entering the room. She’s so preoccupied with the images in her mind that when Obi-Wan says her name, she jumps at the shock of it, scrambling to her feet to gain distance, her pistol aimed and at the ready.

“It’s ok, it’s me,” he assures her, a gentle smile on his face, which quickly disappears when he realises she isn’t lowering her blaster. 

“I’m under orders to turn you in for your crimes against the Republic,” she warns him, her blaster aimed and poised to fire. She tries to look strong. She tries her best to hide the fact she’s trembling, that her eyes are watering, that her chest hurts. She can’t let him win. She’d been warned about this. She’s the best of the Agents, and he’s the best of the remaining Jedi order. She  _ has _ to play her part. For a few moments, he looks surprised, but Keeasi feels her heart plummet as she watches his face fade into disappointment.

With a wave of his hand, her blaster flies from her hands, falling to the floor on the other side of the room. She knows better than to chase it. They both know she wouldn’t have fired it anyway. “But you won’t,” he replies, unmoving, everything she wants to be in this moment. Calm, collected, confident in his actions. For all her skills, she isn’t a threat to him at all unless she plans on trying to gun him down. He knows it. She knows it. 

Another full minute passes between the two before she finally lowers her blaster, her eyes too wet to go without blinking them. “Why?” She asks. “Why is this happening? It isn’t meant to be like this.” 

“None of what you’ve been told is true,” he says. “You know this.”

He’s right, of course, and to have it put before her so plainly  _ does  _ something. She can almost hear something snap in her mind as her resolve crumbles. “They had us kill them,” she chokes, the tears running freely now. “In the Temple, the Padawans, the scholars… he had Anakin kill the…” she raises her hands to her mouth, still processing what she’s seen, what she’s done in the confusion, what she’d  _ had _ to do. “I never wanted this! You have to believe me!”

“I know,” he says, bridging the gap between them, his arms reaching out to take her into his arms as she openly weeps from the weight of her own confession. “You need to leave, Keeasi. You need to hide.”

“I can’t,” she says from behind her hands, all but burying herself against his chest.

“Keeasi, Palpatine has already begun to poison you,” he insists. “He will do as he has done to Anakin and twist your mind. Just as he did before.”

She shakes her head, her lip quivering as the shame of her impulsive and failed attempt at seduction hits her with the force of a bodyrush. “No, he wouldn’t. I’m not important enough. He’d-”

“He knows, Keeasi,” he interrupts. “I’m entirely sure of it. He can probably sense it, and I don’t doubt he’s known all along. He’s weaponizing you against me, just as he has done to Padme and Anakin.” Her entire body tenses as a wave of tremors overtakes it. He’s right, and she knows it, as much as she dreads the reality of it. It all makes so much sense -- the way the Chancellor had her spy on the Senator, his interest in her relationship with the Padawan, the missions involving data collection on the Duchess of Mandalore. The Chancellor has been looking for weaknesses to exploit all along. “I have to go to Padme,” he says, “and you need to get away from here as soon as you can. The outer-rim, maybe. Like Tatooine--”

“You’re  _ what?” _ She asks, her eyes widening as she looks up to face him. “You’re going to Padme?” There it is, that panic from before again. The cold feeling.

Obi-Wan nods, his expression the most dire she’s ever seen it. “She’s in great danger and will take me to Anakin, I can-”

“It’s Anakin’s fault!” She exclaims, pulling away. “All this and you’re  _ going to go to him?” _

“I have to. It’s the only hope.”

“Hope for what?” She asks, her face incredulous, feeling almost… insulted. “Hope that he’ll kill you? He’s not the same, Obi-Wan. The person I saw in that Temple isn’t… wasn’t… it’s not Anakin. There’s something very wrong.” She pauses. “Let’s just leave,” she pleads, moving towards him again. “I can get us an unregistered ship. We can leave in secret.”

The Jedi shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, closing the gap between them once again to brush a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “But I must do this.”

Keeasi shakes, beside herself, her lip visibly quivering as he leans in to kiss the top of her head. “This is our only chance to be together,” she begs, “without the Jedi Order, without the Republic, away from this… please, don’t leave me.”

To her horror and without another word, he turns her back on her and leaves. She stands in silence for a few moments, numb, unsure what to think.

She sinks to her knees, totally lost in a preemptive feeling of mourning, and tries to stop herself from wailing in grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually the first chapter I wrote, and the rest of the story has been written around it, really. So I hope you've enjoyed it because I have been sitting on this for a good couple of years now, along with the upcoming chapters, and I'm very excited to finally get to share it. 
> 
> Even if it's like, upsetting. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for your comments, they mean the world to me and keep me going. Fanfiction is great for this exact reason. <3 This is far from the end of this story but I figured it'd be a good time for thanking everyone for sticking around.


	17. Mourning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN: Violence  
> Non sexual but still non-con conception (non graphic.)

Keeasi Denn has always been a fan of contingency plans. 

Having a backup plan is a bit of a habit more than anything, one that started when she was stripping ships to get by as a young teenager. _Always keep extra food for the days where you come up dry. Always try and keep something at home to trade in for emergencies. Never tell anyone else about your secret stash of nutrient paste or power converter rods_ \-- all things that carried over to her life as a working girl. 

As good an income as it was, it could be unstable and unpredictable. _Always keep money stashed away for bad weeks. Never tell the other girls what you charge so they can’t undercut you. Always have a planned exit in case he crosses the line. Always have something to catch vomit with nearby in case he’s too drunk._

Having a ‘Plan B’ has been essential to her life as an Intelligence Agent. _Always be armed when in cognito, even if it’s a hairpin. Never reveal your sources in case they come in handy again. Always have a fake secret to ‘admit’ to in case the target gets suspicious. Always know the nearest pleasurehouse for a quick hideaway. Always have a backup plan in case someone recognises you from another sting._

As much as a fan as Keeasi is of keeping a long list of contingency plans, however, Keeasi did even entertain the idea that she would fall in love with a member of the Jedi Council, or enter into the beginnings of what could have been a deeply scandalous affair with him. She never predicted that she would be complicit in the murder of children. She never would have thought the man she loved would betray her. She never saw this violence coming. 

Keeasi, did, however, by some struck of luck, foresee the possibility of the Republic falling. While she originally suspected it would involve a Separatist victory rather than a Sith takeover, she did, in an excellent act of foresight, have a plan to flee. 

Fake documents in hand and face hidden by a hood, she waits in line for the Transport, glad she’s always been at least a little paranoid. In the next two hour, she will be off-world and on her way to Alderaan. She can make her way to wherever will be safest from there -- but she’ll need time, which is a luxury that Coruscant can’t afford her anymore. 

It’s been four days since Keeasi failed to capture Obi-Wan Kenobi. It has been two days since Chancellor Palpatine became Emperor, and declared the Republic to be the New Galactic Empire. It’s been three days since Keeasi has been in hiding.

Despite her lingering belief that Emperor Palpatine valued her, Keeasi knows what is waiting for her if she’s caught. She didn’t just fail to capture Kenobi, but she allowed herself to be emotionally compromised to the point of _letting him walk away._ She’s tried time and time again to excuse it, but as an Intelligence Agent, she knows it’s unacceptable. She wouldn’t accept it from someone beneath her -- and she doubts the Emperor will, either. Given the methods of the newly established Empire, Keeasi doesn’t need to guess what the punishment for her treason will be. 

The line moves forward and she feels a darkened sensation of dread rise in her core. She’s unsure why -- it’s not the first time she’s passed Coruscant’s immigration using fake documents, and even if her documents fail her, she has some very persuasive bribes to offer. If anything, until now, she’s been entirely confident in her plan to escape.

The feeling worsens as she steps forward with the line once more. And then, out of nowhere, the feeling returns. The same, cold feeling from when she felt tormented by Obi-Wan. The feeling she felt after the Jedi Temple.

It’s like time stops. Unlike before, Keeasi has come to a rough conclusion about what that feeling means.

She hears him before he sees him, and when she turns to look at what everyone else in the spaceport terminal is staring at, the terror that rolls over her slices through her in a way she’s never felt before. The spaceport patrons parts before him as he approaches, some pulling others out of the way with the urgency of someone attempting to avoid the strike of a weapon. The temperature drops several degrees -- although it may just be the cold feeling sinking in. It feels as though it’s in her bones, and each of the figure’s loud, amplified breaths makes them sting.

She reaches into her robe, placing her hand on her blaster. She can already feel herself trembling as the figure closes in. She’s never seen anything like him. He’s like the personification of a shadow, a monument to all of the terror and fear she’s ever experienced in wartime, his sheer presence making her feel as though she’s reliving her worst experiences again all at once. He’s completely foreign, and yet somehow deeply and intimately familiar, as though his aura is invoking a part of her psyche that only emerges when she’s at her worst.

The figure approaches her directly, unmistakably here for her, and Keeasi knows even her most well planned contingency plans are becoming less and less viable. She draws her blaster, aiming it at the figure as though it would scare him, yet fully intending to fire. 

The blaster not only flies from her hand before she can pull the trigger, but her hand suddenly feels as though it’s being crushed. Keeasi cries out in pain, looking from her hand to the figure, who’s now only steps away from her. The figure reaches towards her, and while she expects him to strike her -- he doesn’t.

She can’t breathe. 

It feels like there’s something around her throat, and it’s _crushing_ her windpipe. She throws her hands to her throat, trying to grip whatever it is, but there’s _nothing there._ She stares at the figure, trying to plead with her eyes. He has no face. Just a mask. Keeasi wonders if this is the last thing she’ll see before she dies.

She feels herself launch backwards, and although she’s free to breathe again and has time to take one more breath, she slams into one of the immigration desks, the force of impact cracking through its surface. She can’t hear anything but her own heartbeat, and for a moment she blacks out -- but it’s only long enough for her to miss the figure approach her again. Her vision is blurring, like someone has smeared something over the lense of a camera, but when the figure grips her by the back of her hair and pulls her towards him, she can make out her own reflection in his mask as he forces her face upwards. He’s getting a good look at her. He’s _enjoying_ this.

The figure effortlessly lifts her clear off the ground by her hair, and throws her against the immigration desk once more. This time, Keeasi stays unconscious.

* * *

The figure throws her to the ground, Keeasi collapsing in a heap before the new Emperor. She can see his feet, but she dare not look up. Her face is bruised and bloody, her shirt ripped in several places. 

“Agent Commander Denn,” the Emperor chuckles. “Do you know why you are here?” He asks. She doesn’t respond, knowing it’s pointless. He’s toying with her. “I asked such a simple task of you, one I know you were entirely capable of, and yet… Obi-Wan Kenobi has somehow avoided capture.”

“I’m sorry, my Emperor,” she pleads, her voice quiet and shaking. Too scared to even try and pull herself from the floor. 

“Tell me,” the Emperor asks. “Did things go as planned?” He asks. “Did you get what you wanted? Did Kenobi ever love you the way you loved him?” 

She all but loses her breath at this question. No one has ever said that out loud -- not even her. “I…”

“So intelligent,” he remarks. “One of my closest allies, willing to carry out my will by any means necessary, offering up everything, body, mind, and soul, all for the sake of the old Republic. And yet -- willing to betray all of that for the love of a Jedi. So intelligent, and yet, such a fool.” He chuckles. “And surely now, my dear _Keeasi,_ ” her name is all but a hiss in his mouth, “you must understand that he never loved you, despite all you did for him.”

Her entire body trembles. He’s right. She was -- is -- a fool. “I do,” she finally says, her chest shaking as a tear rolls down her cheek. 

“And now, knowing what is to come for you,” he continues, his voice rising, “a traitor to the Empire that you yourself worked so hard to build for me, do you still love him?” He’s mocking her openly, a chuckle in his voice. “After such a betrayal? After he chose treason over _you?”_ There’s a pause. “Why would he? After all, I look at you and see an Intelligence Operative, but he and the rest of the Jedi look at you and only see a common Tatooine whore.”

“No,” she replies, her voice breathy as her heart races. “I… I hate him.”

The Emperor chuckles. “Do you?” He asks.

Keeasi takes a deep breath. He’s right. She spent a decade building herself up from who she was on Tatooine, sleeping with targets, putting herself at risk, making sacrifice after sacrifice -- and while it was all for the Republic at the start, Keeasi would be a liar if she were to deny that she eventually did it for him, to see him succeed and be out of harm’s way. And never once did he ever, _ever_ care about her the same. Never did he risk everything for her the way she had for him, or the way he did for the Duchess of Mandalore -- and yet he had continued to allow her to. He’d even strung her along to his own benefit. Sure, he said he cared, but… she saw what he chose over her. She saw _who_ he chose over her. 

She finally turns her head up, coming face to face with the Emperor. “I _hate_ him,” she repeats, the tears now freely flowing down her face. She’s a sad sight, her voice dripping with anger and hatred as her tears mix with the blood already on her face. 

Truely, Keeasi Denn has fallen from grace, and soon, she expects, it will be ordered that she die.

Instead, though, the Emperor cackles, his face twisting into a grin. “Good, good!” He roars. “Yes, I can feel the hate flowing from you. It is strong. Powerful.” He pauses, turning his gaze to the figure, who Keeasi is keenly aware is standing behind her. “Can you feel this, Lord Vader?” He asks. 

“Yes, My Emperor,” he replies, the sound of his breathing all but making her quake. She freezes. Lord Vader. _Vader._ She’s unable to stop herself from looking over her shoulder to the giant standing behind her. Anakin? That… _thing_ is Anakin?

“A valuable lesson learned, perhaps,” the Emperor muses, Keeasi looking back to him. “You will, as I had foreseen, lead my Intelligence force,” he explains. “You will assist Darth Vader in finding Obi-Wan Kenobi, and you will have your revenge when he dies by Vader’s hand.” He pauses, and she’s struck with terror he’ll take it back. “There will be a time where you retribution for your failure will come, but it is not today,” he warns. “Do not fail me again.”

She bows her head, trying her best to humble herself before him. “Yes, my Emperor,” she says, “thank you.” 

His act of mercy, she decides, will not be wasted.

* * *

_“Good morning,” she laughs, kissing his brow. “You slept in again.” She’s already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed her hand resting on his. “I made you breakfast.”_

_“How long did I sleep?” Obi-Wan asks, confused, scratching at his beard._

_She smiles. “It’s lunch time.”_

_Obi-Wan blinks, bleary eyed. “You’re kidding.” He watches as she shakes her head. “How uncivilized.”_

_He sits up and she gives him another kiss, this time on the cheek, before standing and leaving the room. He takes a minute to stretch before climbing out of bed. The little house on Tatooine is so quiet and peaceful that it’s dangerously easy to fall asleep, and even harder to wake up when the time comes. Luckily, however, it’s so relaxed here that it doesn’t matter. As long as Keeasi isn’t upset with him for sleeping in, that is._

_He eventually makes his way into the kitchen, where she’s already placed his meal on the table for him, a drink beside it. She walks to the window, peering out, frowning. “I hate having to call him inside,” she laments. “He’s his happiest when he’s out there playing.”_

_Obi-Wan takes his seat, his hands resting on the sides of the cup. “Give him a little longer,” he suggests._

_“You’re only saying that because you want to eat your lunch in peace.”_

_“I thought it was breakfast.”_

_“This late in the afternoon it’s both.” She gives him a smug smile and he rolls his eyes._

_Obi-Wan takes a sip of his drink, watching her carefully as he does so. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” He asks suddenly._

_Keeasi leans against the windowsill, crossing her arms and smiling to herself. “I have a rough idea, yeah.” She watches him take a bite of his food before turning and leaning out of the window. “Luke!” She calls. “Come inside, I’ve made you some lunch.”_

_“Ten more minutes?” The small voice calls back._

_“Now.” She pauses, her eyes widening. It’s when she turns to face Obi-Wan again that he realises she’s laughing to herself. “You should have seen the look he just gave me,” she chuckles. “He’s just like Anakin, honestly.”_

_Anakin._

_Obi-Wan pauses and looks at the food. It looks like some kind of rice dish, but it doesn’t taste like it. It tastes sweet. Like some kind of cake. It doesn’t match up. “Keeasi,” he says, placing down his spoon and raising an eyebrow. “Did you make this?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_There’s a flash of something in his memory, and he takes a second to actually get a good, dedicated look at Keeasi. Their lifestyle has changed from back on Coruscant, and while she’s not dressing to the nines anymore, Keeasi has never been one to wear linens like a moisture farmer. There’s something else off -- her hair is cut short._

_“Are you alright?” She asks, frowning, moving from the window to stand by him. “You look… off.”_

_“I…” he trails off. Something is wrong._

_She puts her hand to his forehead. “Hmm… a little hot.” Her eyes suddenly focus on something else, something behind him. “Oh! Leia, good,” she says, the frown still on her face. “Can you do me a favor and grab our medical kit? I think your father--”_

_“Father?” He cuts in. He suddenly turns around. The little girl standing in the doorway is a little Padme, but with no face. This isn’t right. None of this is right. Leia isn’t on Tatooine. Luke is with Anakin’s family. And Keeasi… Keeasi is…_

Obi-Wan’s eyes open and he jolts in his bed, immediately aware of and irritated by the early Tatooine sunrise. He’s been here a year. Luke is with his Aunt and Uncle and can barely talk, let alone go outside and play on his own. 

He hasn’t seen or heard from Keeasi since he left for Mustafar. 

For a while he worried she was dead. He assumed she was meant to arrest him or even kill him on Palpatine’s orders, and she’d all but let him go, something which he was sure could be assumed to be an act of deliberate treason on her part. He’d also entertained the preferable idea that she’d gotten away. Maybe she’d run away somewhere safe, like Alderaan. Maybe she’d escaped the Empire.

But then he’d received a message from Bail Organa about six months into his stay on Tatooine -- a rarity, given that communication like that could lead to him and Luke being tracked down, which meant the message was dire. A young woman had visited Alderaan recently as a delegate of the Galactic Empire to both meet with leaders and hunt down stray Jedi. She had a specific interest in Obi-Wan Kenobi. Said she ‘has her part to play’ when Bail had asked her why she wanted to find him so bad.

Somehow, losing her to the Empire feels like a worse outcome than finding out she’s dead. 

And honestly, he feels just awful for feeling that way. All he wanted was for her to be… ok. He wanted her to be safe and ok, even if it meant not being with her. Sometimes he feels like a fool for thinking it had any possibility of working. 

He tries to not think about her, but unfortunately for him, there’s times where there’s little else to do on Tatooine.

* * *

“My Emperor, I assure you,” Keeasi pleads, standing before him, “I have no idea how this happened. I have had _no_ external relationships since the founding of the Empire.” She’s trembling. 

“And yet,” he rasps, “you find yourself in this situation. Curious, isn’t it, Commander Denn?” He pauses and she braces herself for his verdict. Discharge, a formal reprimand or even a desertion charge are all options, but the truth is that she knows she’s only alive as long as the Emperor finds a use for her. If he decides her condition makes her a burden…

Instead, though, he looks to the guard stationed in his chambers. “Leave us,” he orders. There’s no explanation as to why he wants them to leave, but he’s the Emperor -- no one is entitled to an explanation unless he deems it. The Praetorian Guards immediately follow their orders, filing out of the doors in twos until it is just Keeasi and Palpatine in the room. “Yes,” he says with a smirk, watching the doors close. “Curious, indeed.” She can _feel_ his eyes boring into her. It’s not something she’s ever been used to. “Do you remember, Commander Denn, when you failed me in capturing Obi-Wan Kenobi?” He asks. “Do you remember when I told you that your retribution would one day come?”

She pauses, taking a deep breath, able to hear her heartbeat suddenly. “Yes, my Emperor,” she replies, an audible shake in her voice. “I do.”

Keeasi can see the lower half of the Emperor’s face from beneath his hood, and she feels herself shiver when she sees his mouth twist into it’s usual, rotting grin. That’s rarely a good thing. “That day has come, Commander Denn,” he announces. “The child you carry is my heir.”

For a few moments, Keeasi swears she goes deaf, like she’s suddenly been thrown into ice cold water and is struggling to get back to the surface for air. “That’s…” she stammers, trying to not only find the word she needs, but put them in a way that’s respectful to the Emperor. “How could…”

Keeasi Denn is pregnant, despite being celibate for the entirity of her service to the Galactic Empire. She’s had no desire to see anyone, let alone time, and even her missions are starkly different from the days of the Republic. Gone are the days of Keeasi posing as dancers and working girls to obtain information. The power of the Galactic Empire and the presence that her Imperial Intelligence uniform commands means she can walk into any room and demand the intel she seeks. 

She hadn’t even had more than an hour after testing positive in the Imperial Medbay to process the deeply confusing information before being summoned to the Emperor’s chambers for what she assumed was a disciplinary. Pregnancy is frowned upon in the Imperial Forces when unplanned, even more so for those with as many responsibilities as Keeasi. Nothing should, or could, impede her important work. 

“The Dark side is capable of many great things,” he explains, “including that which would seem… unnatural to an outsider. With enough power, a true master is able to even create life.” She’s clenching her jaw so tight that she’s scared she might shatter her teeth. “I am in need of a biological heir, and thus I am in need of a healthy female to carry and birth such a child. I can think of no one better for such an honor than you, Commander Denn.”

“I… I don’t want…” she feels like she’s running out of words that are safe to use. “Why me?” She asks, holding back tears, her entire body shaking with an almost indescribable mix of hurt and rage. “Surely someone else could…” It begins to dawn on her that she gets no choice in the matter, and Keeasi feels like she can’t breathe.

“Come, Keeasi,” the Emperor insists, his voice raspy, almost mocking her. “Who else can I trust for such a task? And besides,” he chuckles, “you’ve given your body in service so much already -- what harm is one more time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not the end. I promise there's hope.
> 
> Thanks again for all the comments. I'm incredibly touched by the feedback I got on the last chapter. I'm sorry to make things so hard for the characters but you know. Revenge of the Sith is a tragedy and I low key love it
> 
> I 100% go with the theory that Anakin was conceived using the force by like, Plagueis or Palpatine, and there's evidence in (now Legends) canon that Palpatine was familiar with that power (if not an active user of it.) So after Rise of Skywalker, I decided 'fuck it imma lean into it' so here we are


	18. Comfort

Obi-Wan first notices the figure in Mos Eisley, while he’s buying spare cartridges for his water filtration system from a scrapper in the markets. He thinks little of it -- the markets are often crowded first thing in the morning, and it’s not unusual to be bumped into by others who are trying to squeeze through the little space it affords. 

When he moves on to a food merchant to resupply for the week, he sees the figure again -- they’re roughly the height of a human, but they’re honestly so heavily bundled in the brown and tan cloth typical of Tatooine that he can’t even figure out what species they are. They stand next to him, wordlessly exchanging some truguts for some jerky. Something about their presence grabs his attention, but he brushes it off as merely a coincidence. 

But when he notices them hanging around the trader who handles livestock feed at the same time he needs to order some bantha feed, he realises it’s a little more than coincidence now. He likes to think that his identity is concealed well enough under his hood, but if someone knew what they were looking for, they could easily pick him out.

He knows much better than to confront them in public, though. Especially in such a crowded area. The last thing he wants is half of Mos Eisley knowing there’s some kind of price on his head. He decides the best option is to let them follow him, and then deal with them when they’re further out into the wastes. 

However, by the time he gets back to his speeder, he seems to have lost them -- which isn’t a good thing if they were following him. If they’re not going to follow them themselves, it means they’ll probably return with others. He spends the journey home mentally preparing himself for the worst case scenario, although part of him doubts that the Empire is involved. They wouldn’t have waited. They’re not that subtle.

Obi-Wan decides to arm himself and go about the rest of his day. No point acting conspicuous, and he certainly can’t  _ feel _ any major disruptions to the Force around him. He wonders, as he installs the spare cartridges, if maybe he’s mistaken. Maybe that figure wasn’t following him, and even if they were, maybe they were just a petty thief trying to find an opening. He feeds the banthas and sees to them, but it’s not until he heads inside and starts to prepare for his meal that he hears a rapping on his door.

_ “Strange,” _ he thinks.  _ “Not like the Empire to knock.” _

Light saber on his belt, he turns off his stove. “Just a moment!” He calls out, taking the opportunity to slyly peek out of his window. The figure is there, but thankfully, they’re alone. 

He slowly and very carefully opens the door, peeking through the gap. He waits for the figure to say something, but it’s silent. 

“I’m afraid I have nothing for you if you’re looking to sell, my friend,” he warns, opening the door a little more -- just so much that he can use it as a shield if need be, but with enough space to be able to swing his saber if needed. 

To his surprise, though, the figure reaches up at it’s own wrappings, beginning to remove them. Maybe they do just want to talk -- if they wanted him dead, they probably would have tried to shoot already. They move the first few layers together, seemingly shrugging them off and casually discarding them to the ground with little care for them. He can make out their shape now at least. Definitely humanoid. They focus on the wrappings and coverings on their head now, unwrapping and removing layer after layer until he can clearly make out the visor that’s been covering their eyes.

It takes a few more moments, but eventually their face is just covered by what looks to be a length of cloth, loosely wrapped. When they remove the visor, however, he immediately notices their eyes. Human, probably, unless they’re hiding Lekku in there, but there’s something about them. They look so familiar. Whoever this person is, they remind him of Keeasi.

Surely not, though. 

He can feel the pace of his pulse rise as the possibility sinks in. That can’t be right, though. He’s heard stories about the Intelligence Commander, about how ruthless she is. She wouldn’t go to all this effort anymore, not with the powers of the Galactic Empire at her disposal. And surely, he thinks as the figure removes the last of the cloth from their head, they wouldn’t come alone.

Their face bared, he stares at them, unsure what to feel. 

Keeasi Denn is standing right in front of him. He’d never thought that he would see her on Tatooine again, alive or dead, willing or unwilling. And, if he’s to be honest with himself, he thought that the location would have stopped her from tracking him down for at least a few more years.

While he wants to be excited or elated by what is, in part a dream come true, he also needs to consider the very, very brutal reality of their reunion. 

“Here to kill me, I assume.” He’s done his best to feel her after he’d seen her for the last time, but Palpatine’s power has, over time, cast her energy in shadow until he can’t sense it any longer, a sure indication she was part of his Empire. 

He watches her momentarily, studying what he can of her face from under the remainder of the cloth draped around her head. Her lips are dry, her eyes red from the dry air. He wonders exactly how long she’s been on Tatooine as he watches her reach up and unfastens the last of the ties on the cloth that keeps her bundles together, protecting her from the sand and sun. He’d expected to see her uniform under there, a blaster ready. Instead, though, she’s in light cottons, the same as most others on Tatooine. 

“I’m off duty,” she finally says after another moment of shared silence, smiling a little, trying to lessen the tension. “Please. I’d just… I’d like to talk.”

* * *

“They put me in charge of that aspect of intelligence,” she explains, sitting at his table, a cup of water in her hands. “I guess that it’s good that we parted on bad terms, otherwise I wouldn’t have Palpatine’s little test.”

“So your job is to track me down?” He reiterates. 

Keeasi shrugs. “Among the other Jedi, yes. You’re considered a priority, though.” She quickly raises an eyebrow. “It’s not my main assignment, mind you, but it does take up a large portion of my time.”

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow. “And they aren’t curious as to why you’re on Tatooine?” 

She shakes her head. “As far as they’re aware, I’m on Alderaan. I’m owed some leave, let’s put it that way.” She gazes into the cup, her stare catching his attention -- but Obi-Wan isn’t sure if she’d be agreeable to further questions.

“I…” he pauses, taking the sight of her in. “I’m glad you found me,” Obi-Wan admits. “I worried that I’d never get to apologise to you.”

“No,” she replies, waving her hand dismissively. “You were right. About it all. Who knows what would have happened if you’d listened to me,” she jokes. “I understand now. This is probably the best way it could have worked out, as that as that sounds.” Keeasi sighs and shakes her head. 

He shrugs. “I suppose there’s some truth to that.”

“We were doomed from the start, weren’t we?” She asks, smiling a little to herself. “From the second I got on that ship. A Jedi and a prostitute.” He’s never heard her use that word before, let alone refer to herself that way. He wonders what’s happened to her in the last few years. 

“A Jedi and  _ anyone, _ really,” he laughs. “I can remember how bad I felt the first time we met,” he recalls, watching as she leans back in her seat, listening intently. “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you, and it was a problem twofold -- not just because of the code, but because I was worried you’d think I was gawking at you.”

Keeasi rolls her eyes. “You know, I was so used to it that I never even noticed.” She tilts her head to the side, her eyes fixated on her half-gloves. “What about you?” She asks. “Why Tatooine, of all places?”

Obi-Wan tenses his jaw a little, considering his options. He  _ wants _ to tell her the truth, enough lies have been told for a lifetime, he thinks, and he knows that the thing Keeasi not only wants but needs is honesty after everything they’ve been through. But he knows that, despite how he feels about her, Keeasi is… a danger. At least now. As long as she’s associated with the Empire. And even if he could be 100% sure that it would stay with her, does he want to burden her with this knowledge? It’s such a secret to keep, especially given her circumstances and her proximity to the very people who’d literally kill her for that information. “Anakin would never come back here,” he finally answers decisively. “Not unless he knew for sure.”

He notices it from his peripheral vision -- the way she flinches a little. “I uh…” she brushes a stray lock of her behind her ear. “I haven’t heard that in a while.”

“Heard what?” He asks.

Keeasi takes a second to respond, and Obi-Wan can swear that it looks like she’s literally biting her tongue. “His name,” she finally answers. Her gaze moves out his window now, looking out into the wastes. It’s her turn to tense her jaw, and while she looked sad at first, now she just looks… angry. “I’ll never forgive him,” she says, her voice quiet, like she’s telling him a secret. It probably is, all things considered. “The Empire is…” she trails off for a second. “I’ll never forgive him for what he’s turned me into.”

“Keeasi…” he’s genuinely unsure what to say, but he can see her free hand balling into a fist. “I’m sure that you--”

“Can we not talk about this?” She asks suddenly, looking down at her hand, seeming to force it back open. She takes a second and her face turns into a smile, although he can tell it’s as forced as the small laugh she offers. “Sorry, it’s… it’s been a long couple of years.” 

Everything in him wants to press on. He wants so badly to know what’s happened to her, to know what they’ve done to the woman he cares so much about. But he knows better -- and it will do little else but make him angry, he assumes, not to mention hurt her. Whatever she’s come here looking for, he guesses it isn’t to relive whatever has made her this way. “I’m sorry,” he says.

She shakes her head. “No, don’t be,” she replies again. “Like I said: it’s been a long couple of years. I’m really just glad to know you’re alright out here.” She glances around his home. “Well. As alright as I guess you can be on Tatooine. Not too shabby, really. Nicer than anywhere I ever lived.”

He nods at this. “I was lucky this was available. Had some good contacts who set me up.”

“Yeah, I gotta say, looks like you’ve settled right in,” she remarks. “Look at you, moisture harvesting and herding bantha.” She smirks, crossing her arms. “And you wanted me to go to  _ Alderaan _ ,” she teases.

“Yes, I wanted  _ you _ to go to Alderaan,” he corrects. “I never said--”

“And you wouldn’t have come after me eventually?” She asks, leaning back, giving him a knowing smile. “Come on, Kenobi. You’re too much of a romantic.”

He shakes his head at this. “You’ve come all this way and put yourself in this much danger to pick on me?” He asks, unable to withhold his own smile. “Really, Keeasi?”

“In part.” She smiles, locking eyes with him, and the two stay like that for a moment. He’s really missed this, although he washes the circumstances were a little better. “I also wanted you to know there’s someone on the inside looking out for you,” she adds. “Figure it might help you breathe a little easier.”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

She exhales. “Remember how I kept kind of flirting with treason?” She asks. 

“Yes, it was a hobby of yours,” he replies, deadpan.

Ignoring this, she continues. “Well, I decided to just dive head first into it,” she explains. “You need to do a better job at hiding your tracks. Or, well Bail Organa needs to. I’ve been tapping his messages for years.”

Obi-Wan frowns. How has she been tapping their (very sparse) communication? He sends it manually, written down with messengers. “How long have you known for?” He asks.

“As long as the Empire’s had me at a desk,” she replies, matter-of-factly. “I mean, I guess I had the benefit of knowing where to start, what comms to tap, what pings to scan, what cameras and microphones to hack into…” he notices her gaze focus on the table again, but it’s as though she’s looking even further. “And for a while? I’ll admit -- I was going to turn you in. I really wanted to.” She laughs, although, there’s a bitterness to it. “I was so angry. And they  _ kept _ me angry. Every day, they woke me up and he’d summon me and he’d make sure I remembered how angry I was.” She stops and blinks, looking at her hands, her face completely softening.

“But you didn’t,” he finishes.

“No,” she shakes her head. “I didn’t. I couldn’t. The thing about not being a Jedi or a Sith or…” she mulls over the word. “ _ Whatever, _ is that you don’t have any illusions about having a divine purpose or being part of ‘a greater destiny,’” she says, actively mocking the terms. “So you have a little more time to think about things other than yourself, and you start thinking about how other people, and how  _ they  _ see you and speak to you. And I realised that I’m nothing to the Empire. I never was. Palpatine sees me as a tool.” She pauses. “Another body. A unit. And that’s exactly how people saw me when I was a working girl. Everyone but you. And I couldn’t do it.” 

She takes another moment and laughs it off, shrugging and trying to appear casual about the whole thing. “And then it kind of clicked with me that I can make my own decisions about what’s right and wrong. So I started giving them fake leads, and as far as they know you’ve been spotted everywhere from Cloud City to Brentaal IV.” She chuckles to herself. “You were last spotted somewhere on Eriadu, according to the report I handed in before I went on leave.”

He watches her carefully, unsure of what to say to this. What  _ do _ you say to this? If she’s caught, the outcome for her will be much worse than death. And still, even after the way he left her, after the way he -- as he has come to realise over time -- abandoned her with little explanation… she’s protecting him, and has been all this time. “Keeasi, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” she says plainly, as though she’s done the most casual thing in the world like held open a door or opened a jar.

“I’m not sure what to say…”

“You don’t need to say anything,” she replies. “Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I never expected to hear anything in the first place.” She takes a second to look out the window again. “Never thought I’d see those twin suns again, either,” she says. 

He nods, taking it in with her for a moment, glad, deep down, that a response isn’t required. This has all been a lot for him, really. “I think it’s my favorite thing,” he replies, gaining a quick glance from her. “About, Tatooine, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Keeasi agrees. “It’s honestly not bad.” 

The pair sit in silence for a moment, Keeasi taking in the sunset, and Obi-Wan pretending to along with her. He’s really watching her, however. There’s something different about her now. Something about how she carries herself has changed. It’s like she knows something no one else does, like she knows some secret to the universe that she’s carrying on her shoulders like a burden. His first instinct is to call it wisdom, but there’s something much more familiar there. Obi-Wan thinks about the last time he saw Anakin, and worries how much of that cruelty and darkness Keeasi has been subject to. He doesn’t want to know the answer. He doesn’t need yet another thing haunting him.

“I wonder if this would have been any different if the Jedi were allowed to love,” she muses, breaking his train of thought. “Everything, I mean.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he sighs. “Although, the code is no more. The Jedi Order is no more.” On saying this he freezes, an epiphany taking place. The Jedi Order is no more. 

“Hey,” Keeasi says softly, realizing what this means to him, getting out of her seat and moving to his side. “I’m sorry. I know it… I know it was your life.” She places her hand on his shoulder, but Obi-Wan instead rises from his seat to face her, catching her gaze.. “I know nothing I can say will-”

Without warning he kisses her, his hands coming to the sides of her face, taking her entirely by surprise. When they finally separate, Keeasi stands still in shock, hoping for an explanation. “The Order is gone. And I can finally… we can finally...” he stops himself, as though he struggled to fully comprehend his words, eventually bringing his forehead to rest against hers.

She exhales, her eyes closed, a smile on her face. “We can.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's still more to the story. Promise.
> 
> Thanks for all the lovely comments. <3 You're keeping me going. I really like this chapter. I think it's one of my favourites.


	19. Rage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boiiiii huge CNs for this:  
> -Mentioned and discussed forced pregnancy  
> -Consensual sex (yay!)  
> -Lots of grief oh god so much grief  
> -Legitimately though this gets really dark and I'm sorry for that.

He’s spent the entire night holding her, not letting go, part of him afraid she’ll vanish if he does. The night had been long. Lots of talking, the conversation feeling as though they’ve been chipping away at each other's secrets, although he assumes it’s hardly intentional -- but nothing physical. He’ll wait for her to take that step. She will when she’s ready to; and he can’t help but get the feeling that Keeasi isn’t ready at all. Something has happened to her. Obi-Wan doesn’t know what, but he can almost feel it as if it’s clawed itself into her flesh.

They’re laying on his bed, fully clothed. At some stage during their long conversation she fell asleep, her head resting against his chest. As the suns rise, he smooths the back of her hair for what is probably the millionth time. They’ve gone fifteen years without touching like this. He never wants her to let go of him, and he feels absolutely content in this moment. Unfortunately, though, he knows it’ll have to end, at least for a little. He has to carry out his daily routine. As happy as he’d be to lay about with Keeasi all day, catching up, rebuilding the bridges he’d thought burnt, there’s bantha to care for and a moisture farm to check in on. 

“Keeasi,” he whispers, trying to not startle her. Despite his best attempt, however, she jolts awake at the movement, eyes wide, her expression settling when she realises where she is and who she’s with. 

“Uh,” she groans, blinking and rubbing at one of her eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

He smiles as she lifts herself off him, allowing him to move, watching her stretch out her arms. It looks like it’s the first good night’s sleep she’s had in a long time, and he wonders if there’s something that keeps her awake. “I have some errands to run,” he explains, his voice soft, wanting the peace of the morning to last as long as he can manage it. “Are you planning on staying?” 

She shrugs. “Figured I’d head to somewhere like Bespin next,” she replies. “I’ve got two weeks of leave to kill after this.”

“Two weeks...” He repeats. Obi-Wan looks across his home, surveying it as he scratches at his beard. While it’s hardly a family home, it’s enough for two -- although he supposes she might be lacking for things to do, especially in the wastes. But… if she wanted…

“I could stay here, though,” she says, as if reading his mind, offering him a smile. “I mean, if I’m not going to be a burden. It’s ok to say no. I won’t be offended.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “You’d never be a burden,” he says. “Ever. You can stay as long as you’d like. Of course you can.” He leans over, planting a kiss on her forehead -- and for a second he can swear he sees her blush. 

“You sure you can deal with me for two weeks?” Keeasi laughs.

“Can you deal with _me_ for two weeks?” He asks, smiling as he rises from the bed. 

She shrugs, sitting up, watching him collect his boots. “I dealt with you for a lot longer during the Clone Wars.”

“Fair,” he replies with a smile, taking a moment to think back as she scoots to the edge of the bed. “The amount of crisis you sent me into…”

“What do you mean?” She asks, raising an eyebrow and scooting to the edge of the bed.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “As I said back then: I was emotionally compromised.” He pauses, frowning. “If I may ask -- did you ever speak to Tann again?” Instead of a response, Keeasi stares at him curiously. “The radar technician.”

“ _Oh!_ ” She laughs, shaking her head. “No. Can’t say I ever did.”

“Good,” he replies decisively, before reaching for his cloak. “I have to feed the bantha now, but make yourself at home. Although, I must say, I’m afraid I don’t have much in the way of--”

“Can I help?” She asks, quickly rising from the bed. “With the bantha.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You… want to help with the bantha?”

Keeasi nods, quickly gathering her own boots and hopping into them one by one as she speaks. “Yeah. Least I can do.” 

His first instinct is to question this -- Keeasi’s always been a hard worker, yes, but caring for bantha hardly seems to be relevant to her interests. But before he can say anything, she all but barrels out the door, heading straight for his small herd, and he wonders if there’s something else to this. He wonders what possibly had happened in the last few years that’s made bantha seem… enough to make her _hop_ into her boots.

Maybe, he thinks, it’s something like homesickness. She did, after all, grow up on Tatooine. It’s where they met. As he approaches the herd, he can already see her carefully reaching up to stroke the side of one of the smaller bantha, seeming a little hesitant to touch at first. 

He brings her a bucket of bantha feed and shows her how to feed them, starting with feeding the calves by hand. As it eats out of her hand it gives a loud and sudden exhale of air, causing her hair to blow back. She jumps at this reflexively, giving a short and small cry of surprise before breaking into laughter. He can’t help but smile as he watches -- it’s adorable to watch, which is a word he honestly never thought he’d find himself using to describe her, and it’s not long until he realises that he’s absolutely beaming. She seems so relaxed with the calf, and he’s so used to seeing her shoot her blaster and bash away at data terminals that the concept of her being so gentle with an animal has never crossed his mind. 

They spend the next few hours attending to the herd, leaving feed for the adult bantha, Keeasi taking time to pet each one -- she thinks Obi-Wan doesn’t notice, but he does. “Do they have names?” She asks. 

“Of course,” he replies, gesturing to the adult she’s currently petting. “That’s Dolo,” he explains, before turning to point to the others one by one, “Toka, Yull, Prini, Goro, Zap, Cirris, Lua and…” he trails off when he arrives at the calf. “...Well, I haven’t settled on a name for this one,” he admits. “She’s only a month or so old.”

“And you haven’t named her?” She asks, a little offended on the bantha’s behalf.

“I’ve been busy -- but you’re welcome to if have any ideas,” he offers. 

Keeasi thinks over it for a moment, watching the calf before giving a decisive nod. “Nara,” she finally announces. “She looks like a Nara.”

“Nara,” he repeats. “I like it. Nara it is.” 

The rest of the day is relatively peaceful, and Keeasi is not just happy to help him with his routine, but seems eager. Maybe this is distracting her from whatever it is that he can sense around her -- he notices that for a brief moment, while she’s deeply focused on assembling a moisture pump, the feeling vanishes. Obi-Wan can’t really deny that he finds the day-to-day chores around the herd and his home to be a welcome distraction from… everything else; the past, the always-there-danger looming from the empire, the uncertainty of the future. 

As the day rolls into night, though, he catches her staring off into the distance from time to time, that feeling stronger and stronger until she’s broken out of thought by conversation. While he knows it best to wait until she’s ready to offer an explanation, he desperately wants to ask her. Maybe he can help. Maybe he can alleviate it. Looking at Keeasi -- the woman he cares about so much -- and being able to _feel_ such a disruption in the force around her is far from pleasant. 

When it comes time for him to make his trip to the Lars homestead for his daily ‘walk,’ as he’s come to call it, Keeasi thinks little of it when he asks her to stay behind, not arguing or pressing the point when he won’t fully reveal where his ‘business’ that needs to be attended to is. Maybe it’s trust, or maybe it’s her knowing better than to pry. He hopes it’s the former.

The walk back gives him time to think. He can’t tell her about Luke or his sister, but he can tell her about Anakin. About Padme. Does she already know? He’s not sure. But either way, he decides she has a right to know. He abandoned her for them, left her to the devices of the Galactic Empire, and who knows what they’ve done to her since. Obi-Wan feels a pang of guilt as he approaches the home, knowing she’s inside -- he’s failed everyone he’s ever loved, and she’s no different. 

His hand touches the door and he pauses for a moment, stationary. Love. Odd. He’s never really put a name to it when it comes to her. Maybe it’s been self preservation until now. 

He steps inside, Keeasi looking up from her book with a smile. “How’d it go?” She asks. 

Obi-Wan shrugs, closing the door. “Everything’s as it should be,” he replies, taking a seat beside her on the bed where she’s lounging. “What are you reading?” He asks her, reaching out and tilting the book in her hands a little to read the cover. 

_“Trade in a Time of Honor,”_ she replies, closing the book. “It’s about smugglers during the First Mandalorian War.”

“Moved on from romance novels, have we?” He asks with a smirk. Keeasi rolls her eyes and puts the book aside as he chuckles to himself, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. He means it as an affectionate gesture, of course, but he can’t help but worry it might be the last depending on her reaction. 

She places her hand to his chest, playfully pushing him away from her. “I came all the way here and all you do is make fun of me,” she scoffs, grinning ear to ear. 

For a second, he considers abandoning his plan and not saying anything. He never thought he’d see this smile again, and there’s a selfish part of him that doesn’t want to risk losing it. But he has to. He’s almost obligated to. “Keeasi,” he says, his voice softening a little, his expression dropping to match. “I want to talk about what happened the last time I saw you--”

“Hey,” she interrupts, reaching up and putting her hand to the side of his face. “I told you, it’s ok.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze meets her own, and while he takes a moment to savor the feeling, he soon takes her hand and gently guides it back to her own lap. He doesn’t need to explain that he has something else to say -- the gesture is enough to tell her. “Have they ever told you?” He asks. “What happened on Mustafar?”

She purses her lips together. “Is it true?” She asks. “Did you do it?” He breaks eye contact to look downwards, and it seems that his expression answers the question for him. Her shoulders drop, her eyes staring off into nothing as they did before. There’s a significant quiet between the two before she speaks again. “When Palpatine allowed me to live,” she recalls, “he’d summon me to his chambers and mock me for hours on end.” His jaw tenses at this. “One of his favorite things to do was berate me for the way you betrayed the Republic. He’d tell me how weak I was for trusting you, how you took advantage of me and my feelings. He’d always say you tried to kill Vader.” It doesn't go unnoticed that she says Vader. It’s clearly reflexive.

“And did you believe him?” He asks. 

Keeasi takes a long moment to think, glancing at him for a second before looking away, like she’s been caught doing something she couldn’t. It’s as though she’s scared of him, and the disturbance feels stronger than ever before. What’s happened to make her this way? This isn’t the Keeasi he knew, the one who’d throw herself almost head first into covert operations with (what he believed to be) absolutely no sense of self preservation. There was something different here, something terrible. “At first I did,” she admits, her gaze fixated on her hands, which are fidgeting a little. “I was so angry, Kenobi. I was… _hurt,_ and Palpatine could see it, and he used it to control me.” He can see her jaw tensing. “And I did… I did terrible things because of it.” To Kenobi’s dismay, she quickly lifts her hand to her face and quickly wipes at her cheek. She’s crying. “But there was always a part of me that knew,” she says. “I think I always knew what he was doing, and I think I always knew that you would never…” She stops herself short. “...Not unless you had to.”

“If there’d been a way…” he trails off, unsure of what to really say, torn between telling her the truth and pulling her into his arms the way he _desperately_ wants to. “I wish it had been different, Keeasi.”

She finally faces him, her eyes a little red, visibly restraining her emotions. “You don’t need to explain,” she assures him. “Vader and the Empire aren’t really known for allowing compromise.” She takes a second to process this all, nodding silently before delivering another question. “And Padme?” She asks. “What happened to Padme? All I know is that she’s…” Keeasi pauses again. 

There’s an instinctive urge to tell her everything there and then -- about the twins, about why he’s really on Tatooine -- but she’s… there’s something so fundamentally changed in Keeasi, like the last few years have worn her down almost as much as they have him. If he tells her the truth, it’s one more secret. One more burden for her on top of so many. He can’t do that to her, and he won’t. “The labor was hard,” he replies, “and she was so distressed.”

Keeasi nods again, processing this. “Were you with her?” She asks.

“Yes,” he replies. 

“Good,” she exhales, offering a small smile, sadness still in her eyes. “I’m glad she wasn’t alone.”

“Keeasi,” he begins, shifting a little, unable to stop himself when he notices her chewing on the inside of her cheek, “what’s happened?” He asks. She stares at him curiously as he reaches out and takes her hand. “What have they done to you?”

She gives a laugh, but it’s short, nervous, and all of a sudden she can’t manage to hold eye contact with him. “Lots of stuff, none of it really important.” She purses her lips for a second before continuing. “After you left, I went into hiding on Coruscant for a while. I’d let you go, and I knew they wouldn’t be very forgiving, so I tried to defect,” Keeasi explains. “Almost managed it, too, but I didn’t account for Vader. It wasn’t pretty.” She reaches up and taps at her left ear. “Still can’t hear too great out of this one,” she says, smiling for a short moment before quickly realizing that the expression on Kenobi’s face is far from amused -- and when she notices the long, controlled inhale he takes, she realises he’s holding back what she suspects might be anger. “But like I told you when I got here -- I knew too much, Palpatine put so much investment into me that he didn’t want to let me go. So instead of just killing me, he decided to…” she searches for the word. “Break me down. Start again.”

“Has he hurt you?” He asks.

Keeasi gives a quick and sharp exhale in place of a laugh. “Who? Palpatine or Vader?” She asks. “They hurt everyone. The Empire hurts everyone.” She pauses. “...That’s… that’s not fair, actually,” she quickly corrects. “Vader hasn’t touched me since I tried to defect. I’d take five of him over one of the Emperor.” He raises his eye, waiting for further explanation -- so she gives it. “I have to work with Vader often. There’s a… I don’t know how to describe it. Not a comradery, but… whoever Vader is, _whatever_ he is, I think he remembers what we went through before the Republic fell.” She lets out another nervous laugh. “Once, I dragged Vader to Cato Neimoidia with a fake lead. Obviously we didn’t find you, but he managed to dig up a few rebels -- entirely by accident, mind you. Bad luck for them, because I had no idea they were there. I remember watching while he tore their base apart, and I looked at the bodies and felt a little sick, and then he turned to me and said _‘you and I will have our revenge on Obi-Wan Kenobi yet.’_ I think he thought I felt disappointed, not…” she searches for the word. “Anyway. He has the idea, I think, that we both want the same thing as bad as each other.” She starts to shake her head. “He’s so angry, Kenobi. I don’t know a lot about how this Sith stuff works, but if Anakin’s still in there… there’s not much of him left at all. But Palpatine? Palpatine is…” 

Her stare becomes a little vacant again, and Obi-Wan notices that Keeasi’s hands are gripping the fabric of the blankets they’re sitting on, her knuckles turning white. “We don’t have to talk about this,” he says gently, reaching out to place a hand on top of one of her fists in an attempt to try and calm her a little. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Whatever Keeasi’s gaze is fixed on, it’s not in this room, and Obi-Wan knows exactly what’s happening to her. It’s not the first time he’s seen someone re-live memories they’d rather not, and he strongly suspects it won’t be the last. “I had a child,” she finally says, her voice sharp, anger to the tone in a way that doesn’t match the words. 

He blinks, taking this in, watching her swallow her breath and suddenly break her stare, looking down as though she’s ashamed. “You have a child?” He repeats, struggling a little to believe it. 

“Had,” she corrects. “I don’t know anything about him. Don’t know where he is. Don’t know his name. Don’t want to know.” She’s physically trembling, but it’s not with sadness or regret. Obi-Wan knows this feeling. It’s pure, white-hot rage. “Palpatine had wanted me to bring you in, either as a prisoner or a convert. He knew about us all along, you were right, and he’d absolutely planned to use that. And when I failed…” Keeasi takes a second to release a breath. She’s been holding it. “When I failed, even though he welcomed me back into the Empire, there was a price to pay for my failure. There’s _always_ a price to pay for failure.”

“Did he…?”

“No,” Keeasi says quickly. “No. He never physically touched me. Something about the Force, about his Master’s methods.” At this, Kenobi’s mind immediately goes back to meeting Anakin as a boy, and his stomach lurches. It’s true, then. “I don’t know,” she continues, “I’ve never really understood how that stuff works. But one day I was running missions, the next day I was carrying some kind of _abomination_ for the Emperor,” there’s genuine venom in her voice as she says this. “And that was when I realised that all I’ll ever be to him or the Empire is a body. A tool.” Her voice audibly quivers again, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “The same way everyone saw me in that Cantina. The same way everyone has always seen me.”

Obi-Wan has no idea what to say or do other than try and keep his emotions in check. He is, first and foremost, furious. A familiar feeling is emerging from the dark, seeking him out, trying to cloud his judgement. It’s the same feeling that he felt when he lost Anakin. The same he felt when Ahsoka abandoned the Order. It’s the exact feeling that all but suffocated him when Satine died in his arms, a mixture of grief, anger, and a reactionary desire to immediately seek out revenge. Instead, though, he takes another deep breath, trying to set it aside for now, focusing instead on the woman beside him. “I’m so sorry, Keeasi,” he says, his hand closing over hers and giving a squeeze, trying his best to be stable so he can support her in this moment, even though he feels awful.

Anakin. Ahsoka. Padme. Satine. Everyone he has ever cared for has suffered terribly, and he feels he has failed all of them. Keeasi, much to his distress, has been no exception.

And then, like a knife cutting through his silent anguish, she turns and all but throws herself against him, burying her face into his chest, her fingers clutching at the fabric of his robes as though he’ll vanish if she lets go of him. He doesn’t hesitate, wrapping her up in his arms, one hand on her back, the other cradling her head. “You’re the only person,” she says, looking upwards and meeting his gaze with hers, “the only person who looks at me and sees…” she trails off, not knowing the correct word to describe it. 

“Keeasi Denn,” he offers, a gentle smile on his face in an attempt to be comforting. “Selfless, intelligent, brave. A brilliant person, and the woman I love.” Her eyes widen at this, and to be honest, even Kenobi’s a little shocked -- that last part just sort of slipped out. 

There’s no time for him to overthink it, however. Keeasi immediately reaches up and takes his face in her hands, kissing him, throwing her arms behind his neck and pulling herself closer to him. Obi-Wan Kenobi has kissed a lot of women, _especially_ for a Jedi, but something about this? About her? It’s like she purifies the darkness that was swelling up in his chest, like a drop of water to parched earth, like fresh air in a sealed vault. His hands find their way to her waist, pulling her upwards, Keeasi moving in tandem until she’s all but on his lap, the kisses fervent, her skin flushing,

In sync, they pull back from each other, silent, watching each other's expressions and gauging where this is going to go. Keeasi takes a deep, shaky breath. “Obi-Wan, if you don’t want to, I understa--”

For the first time since he was a Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi tosses aside his sense of duty and lingering obligation to a code that has failed so many -- and decides to do what he’s had to fight to avoid thinking of for so. Many. Years. He kisses her, pulling her firmly against him, one hand gripping her hip and the other moving behind her neck. It’s enough of a signal for her, and he feels her fingers brush through the back of his hair at the nape of his neck.

His fingers move to the hem of her cloth tunic, sliding beneath and brushing across bare skin. He’s thought about this in secret for so long, silently struggling with it all the while -- he wants to savor the feeling, but when he feels her hands move to his robes and start tugging, he realises that Keeasi isn’t planning to waste any time. He takes the initiative, lifting her tunic over her head before pulling her back for another kiss, as though every second spent otherwise was some kind of sin, his hands exploring the now exposed skin of her upper back. 

Her hands fumble along the cross-over hemming of his robes, coming to a stop when she reaches his belt. She undoes the latch, the belt falling to the wayside along with the obi beneath it, her hands immediately gripping the tunic and pushing it back. He helps her by shrugging it off, and it’s after this that Keeasi realises she has no idea what comes next. She does her best to find it without withdrawing from his kisses, but thankfully, he grants her mercy and catches one of her hands, guiding it to a small tie at the side. She can feel him smile through the kiss, and her face burns as she undoes the small length of cord as he unsnaps the clips of her bra.

His hands grip her by the waist, and she gives a cry of surprise as he all but throws her back onto the bed beneath them, leaning down to kiss her again as she undoes the fastenings of her pants and all but wiggles out of them. He takes a second to pull away, taking time to actually _look_ at her, his hand running down the side of her torso as he takes it in. He’s always thought she was beautiful, but seeing her like this -- or, well, being _allowed_ to look at her like this -- is special. 

There’s more kisses and wandering hands, clothes are removed, and the feeling of what Keeasi has to admit has been _years_ of sexual tension finally coming to fruition is utterly intoxicating. She’s come to accept over time that she’d wanted this a lot longer than she’d initially been willing to admit, but now that it’s actually happening, she’s starting to get a grasp of how _much_ she’d wanted it. Everything feels like it’s instinctive, there’s so little thinking, just feeling, and when she feels him inside her for the first time the overwhelming rush of emotion makes her feel like she could cry. She’s been with so many men, so many that she’s lost count, and sex has never really meant anything to her. But this? This is special. She knows it, he knows it. 

They both stay almost stationary for a moment as they adapt to the feeling, something neither thought they’d ever feel. Yet, now that they can, it’s _so good_. And then it starts, the rhythm as old as time, the heavy breathing, Keeasi gently whimpering and moaning beneath him. It’s heavenly. He wants to hear more of it, and he secretly curses himself for not allowing himself to be this close to her before, despite knowing why that couldn’t happen.

Her face and chest flush a little, and she bites her lip as she lets out another moan, and he feels a tensing in his core that drives him to make her do it again. She feels amazing, everything about her -- the feeling of her legs tensing at his sides, the sight of her breasts in the moonlight that spills in from the window, the way she gently sighs his name. Her nails stars to dig into his back as she clings to him a little more tightly than before, the speed of her breathing picking up along with his pace and _this is really happening, isn’t it?_

Keeasi can feel her legs start to shake, her abdomen tensing up, the sensation of what’s to come starting to build. Her first instinct is to tell him not to stop, but when she notices the change in his pace she realises that they’re almost completely in sync. She thinks, deep down, they always have been. She catches a glimpse of how he’s looking at her right now and _oh,_ her back starts to arch and it’s coming, here it is. She reaches up and takes his face in her hands, pulling his head downwards to kiss her, her body tensing up before she cries out. He’s not far behind her, she can tell, and as his breathing begins to shake, she kisses him again and whispers “I love you” into his ear.

His face buries into her neck as he loses himself, everything coming to a stop, nothing existing outside of that single moment in time. The whole world stops and shakes and revolves, and then there’s silence -- a calm, the only sounds that of the winds outside and their breathing. She kisses his brow as he catches his breath. Running the flat of her thumb up his cheekbone before he steals another kiss, and then rolls to her side. 

He lay there for a moment, taking a few final heavy breaths before reaching her arm out, giving her the opportunity to nestle herself against him, resting her head on his shoulder, her hand coming to lay flat on his chest. “Well,” he finally says, breaking the silence. 

“Well _indeed,_ ” she laughs. “I never thought…”

“Neither did I,” he finishes, taking the sheet of the bed and pulling it over them. “Neither did I.”

She tilts her head up a little to get a look at his face, her eyebrow raised. “Oh, so you _did_ think about it, then?”

Obi-Wan chuckles. “While it’s true that I was a Jedi, I was also a human being, Keeasi.”

“I knew it,” she jokes, sounding quite smug with herself.

“And you didn’t?”

“I wasn’t a Jedi. I could think about whatever I wanted,” she replies, idly tracing the surface of his chest with her fingertips. “...Although, once I saw the beard…”

It’s his turn to raise his eyebrow. “You don’t like it?” He asks. “I haven’t been clean shaven since I was a Padawan.”

“On the contrary,” she announces, reaching up to graze the beard with the back of her fingers. “One of the first things I thought when I saw you again on Coruscant was how much I liked it.”

“And you’ve kept it to yourself all this time,” he chuckles.

“As if I would have ever admitted it back then.”

“I liked your hair,” he confesses. “Well, I still do, but back then? I used to see how long it was and I was just... mystified by it.”

“You got a hair thing, Kenobi?” She asks. 

He shakes his head. “No. I just used to look at you and think of how much you looked like a painting. Like something from the Old Republic,” he explains. “Still do.”

They lay like that for a while, totally peaceful, Keeasi eventually drifting off to sleep. Obi-Wan isn’t far behind her in that regard, the feeling of her against him and the sound of her breathing making him feel the calmest he has in a very long time. As he begins to drift off, he thinks to himself how happy he is with her here. They’re both smart and capable and determined -- maybe, just maybe, he can find a way for this to work without jeopardizing the safety of the child. Maybe she can stay. He’d like that. He doesn’t want her to leave.

He decides he’ll tell her this in the morning. Maybe they can come up with a plan, but for now? He decides to enjoy this rare moment of peace, and drifts off into the most sound sleep he’s had in a long time.

* * *

It’s like a ripping sound. Like a flash of light in front of his closed eyes. Like he can hear an explosion that he’s perfectly aware isn’t real. Obi-Wan’s eyes open, his heart already racing. There’s a disturbance in the Force.

Something is wrong at the Lars homestead. Luke is in danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy i am not super confident in my ability to write sex because whenever i read anything i write that is super graphic i start giggling like a kid, which is FUNNY because boy oh boy if you follow me on twitter you know I am the least shy person when it comes to doing the do. 
> 
> A couple more chapters to go! How do you think it'll all end?  
> Thanks again for sticking with me. We're pretty settled in to our new place so updates should be a little bit more frequent now. Please, keep the comments coming, they're why I write (I need validation lol) and they make me incredibly happy to see. I love hearing your reactions! This one gets a bit dark and I apologize for that but I really hope the sex at the end kind of made up for it.
> 
> Love you all <3


	20. Honesty

He sprints towards the homestead, keenly aware of the flashes of blaster fire in the distance, unable to keep his thoughts from the worst possible outcome. He can still sense the child as he runs, but he knows there’s only a matter of time. He’s left Keeasi at his home, telling her to defend it. She can’t know about Luke, and as useful as her help would be, he absolutely can’t risk her safety if, the Force forbid, it’s the Empire at the homestead. She knows the basic rules -- don’t come to the door for anyone, hide in the hidden cellar if there’s activity, and never,  _ ever _ acknowledge him as anything but Ben. If anyone asks for Obi-Wan Kenobi, they’re a danger. She should be safe.

He’s not letting her  _ or  _ Luke down. That stops today.

He reaches the top of a sand dune and crouches down, the dim lights of the moisture farm’s evaporators illuminating the danger: bandits, enough of them to be quite a serious threat, indeed. Obi-Wan has found during his exile that Owen and Beru are quite capable at defending themselves and their homestead, as most farmers on Tatooine have to be. But this is different. There’s at least 15 bandits surrounding the area, drastically outnumbering them from the usually, smaller groups you find in the area. 

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and grounding himself, feeling the Force around him -- in the wind, in the sand beneath his hand. He then opens his eyes and focuses on one of the closer bandits. Waving his hand aside, the bandit flies into one of the nearby moisture vaporizers, crying out on impact and then falling to the sand beneath him, unconscious. 

Hearing the sound of the body against the vaporizer, another bandit approaches the first to see what’s happened. Another wave of his hand and the second bandit flies into a third, who’s pre-occupied by trying to shoot at the house. Obi-Wan can hear a child crying from inside, and rises to his feet, crossing the distance between himself and the homestead. He’s armed with exactly one weapon: an electric bantha prod. If he can avoid getting shot, this shouldn’t be too difficult for him. 3 down, 12 to go.

He storms onto the homestead, all but announcing himself as he jams the prod into the back of a bandit, the bandit letting out a scream and drawing the attention of the remaining 11. Shots start to fire at him instead of the house, and while this is preferable, it doesn’t make things easier. He takes shelter behind another one of the vaporizers, waiting for the right moment and tossing the prod at a bandit who’s tried to flank him. 10 left. He reaches out, pulling the prod back to himself using the force, and waits. Another charges him, armed with an electro-pole of its own, but he uses the force to push the bandit’s own weapon against him, and it tumbles to the ground.

Obi-Wan attempts to move out of cover, but by now, the majority of blaster fire is fixed on him. If he’d had his light saber, this wouldn’t be a problem. It would be easy, even. But he doesn’t. If  _ anyone _ who walks away from this sees him brandishing one, it would be over. He’d be as hunted as Luke -- probably even worse. He can’t watch over the child if he’s on the run. It’s a risk he can’t take.

Without any warning, a loud  _ crack _ rings through the night air, causing him to jump a little. A sniper? For a second he feels a rush of anxiety rip through him. A sniper complicates things drastically. 

Another  _ crack, _ this time a bandit screaming with it. It’s then that it clicks -- whoever is firing this sniper rifle is on his side... and doing a great job at hiding. He can’t see them at all, no matter how he strains his eyesight to see into the dunes in the dim light. 

_ Crack. _ Another wail of a bandit. The blaster fire isn’t focused on him anymore. It’s firing into the dunes, and in the light of the fire he sees the sniper at the exact moment he senses her. 

It’s Keeasi.

Obi-Wan wants to be angry. He wants to shout at her to go back. He  _ wants _ to be frustrated that she’d ignore his instructions like this. But Obi-Wan, deep down, knows better. If anything, he should have expected this from her, this defiant need to charge into danger -- it’s part of why he loves her. He silently thanks her before using the opportunity to come out of cover. 6 bandits to go, most of them distracted, trying to find the sniper in the dunes before they’re shot out next.

He slams the prod against a bandit who’s trying to find cover, whipping around to take one who’s tried to attack him from behind. 4 to go. A shot rings out of the house, taking down a bandit who’s turned to shoot at Kenobi. Make that 3. One sprints away from him, screaming in a language he doesn’t speak, but another  _ crack _ rings out and takes them down before they can flee. 2 more. One is behind cover, one is trying to break through one of the windows of the house. He decides to start with that one. 

Using the force, he lifts up the would-be-intruder, but before he can throw him, Keeasi fires again, taking out the bandit in mid air. Obi-Wan doesn’t take any joy in death, but he has to admit he’s impressed. He’s definitely missed working as a team, that much is certain. Owen’s arm peeks out of the door, a blaster in it’s hand, and fires a final shot at the last bandit, who’s much more preoccupied at trying to fire on Kenobi. 

There’s silence, broken only by the beeping of a damaged vaporizer.

Obi-Wan drops his shoulders, sensing the danger has passed, finally allowing himself to catch his breath. He turns to try and get a glimpse of Keeasi, spotting her as she barrels down the dunes. He’s about to call out to her to tell her to turn back when Owen puts his hand on Kenobi’s shoulder. As the Jedi turns to greet him, Owen’s fist slams into the side of his jaw. 

“What did I tell you?!” he shouts, Obi-Wan stumbling a little from the impact. “What did I tell you about coming here?!”

He doesn’t respond, instead raising his hand to his jaw reflexively. Not broken, but it’ll hurt a lot more later. He can hear Keeasi calling out as she sprints across the homestead. “Hey!” She calls out, audibly angry. “Hey!”

Obi-Wan straightens up, reaching his arm out and opening his palm, signalling for her to stop. “Don’t--” he’s cut off by another punch, this time to his stomach. He knows there’s another one coming, and for a second he considers stopping Owen. He could use the force to stop his fist or push him back. He could even just fight back. But Obi-Wan is also keenly aware of  _ why _ he’s doing this. He can feel more than anger. There’s fear. Terror. And it’s all fair.

“Owen, stop!” He hears Beru shout from the doorway, but regardless, the second punch connects with the side of his face again, and this time he allows himself to give in under the impact and falls to the ground. 

His hearing and vision drops out for a moment, no more than a few seconds, but when they’re back, he can feel Keeasi’s hands on his shoulders. She’s kneeling on the ground beside him, but she’s not looking at him, though. She’s looking at Owen. “What are you doing?!” She shouts. “He was trying to help you!”

“And who are you, huh?!” Owen shouts back. Obi-Wan rolls on his back, and although his vision is a little blurry still, he can clearly see that Berru has a grip on Owen’s arm. She’s holding him back. 

“What does it matter?!” Keeasi fires back. “Do you treat everyone who helps you like this?! You gonna punch me too?!”

He reaches out, putting his hand on her wrist and squeezing it to get her attention. “Don’t,” he warns her, moving to get up. “She’s a bantha herder,” he says to Owen, trying to get off the ground under his own power. “I hired her to help me with the herd. Leave her out of this.” A lie, one he feels a little bad about, but the last thing he needs is to scare Owen and Beru even more. Keeasi will understand when he explains this to her, he’s sure. 

He looks between the two, clearly still enraged, and for a moment Obi-Wan worries that he hasn’t bought it. “I told you not to come here,” he repeats. “All you bring is trouble.”

“Are you kidding?!” Keeasi snaps as she comes to Kenobi’s aid, helping him up from the ground. “He just--”

“Stop,” Obi-Wan interrupts, gatching her gaze, confident he can communicate what he’s asking with just a look. Her jaw tenses, but it’s clear she understands. He turns his attention back to Owen. “I’m sorry,” he says, despite everything he believes. “I was just trying to help.”

The child starts crying again. “When you dropped him off, my job became to protect him,” Owen growls, Beru visibly uneasy with his anger, still prepared to hold him back. “And that’s what I’m doing. I’m protecting him from you.”

He can tell Keeasi is doing her best to hold her tongue. The anger he can feel from her is matching Owen’s, now, and he worries a fight might break out. But it’s then that a small child emerges from the house, crying, reaching out to cling onto Beru’s skirt. “Owen,” Beru pleads, “you’re upsetting Luke.”

Owen looks between Obi-Wan and Keeasi, the glare almost enough to cut through steel. “Goodbye,  _ Ben, _ ” he spits, venom dripping off the name, before turning his back and guiding his family back inside. 

Obi-Wan doesn’t wait, turning in kind and starting the walk home, Keeasi following. Neither of them speak a word. Keeasi wouldn’t dare, and neither would Obi-Wan. Anything he says now will bring up questions, and they’re questions he won’t be ready to answer until he has something cold against his jaw.

* * *

She helps him when they arrive back home, of course, helping him get comfortable and seeing to his jaw. Some cooling jell from his medi kit provides a little relief, but he knows it’ll be a long night. Finally, though, when she finally settles and is satisfied he’s as comfortable as she can make it, she does what he knows she’s wanted to do all night. “What was that?” She asks. “Who were those people?”

He considers telling her another lie, again. That they’re just a nearby family who needed his help. That Owen is an old friend. Anything he can possibly tell her to not place this burden on her. But the way she’s looking at him… he knows that she can tell there’s something more to this. That’s the problem with Keeasi -- she’s too smart to hide things from sometimes. He decides there’s not much he can do. Knowing Keeasi, she’ll just storm over there and ask Beru herself if she really wants to find out. “I must apologise,” he exhales. “I’m afraid I haven’t told you everything.”

Keeasi crosses her arms, although she doesn’t seem angry. Just… as though she’s bracing herself. “What do you mean?”

“About Padme,” he explains. Obi-Wan pauses, taking this opportunity to get a look at Keeasi. This might be the last time he ever sees her not furious at him. He’s lied to her, after all. “She gave birth to two children. A boy and a girl. And then she...” He tries to deliver it as matter-of-factly as possible, as if it can hide how reluctant he is to tell her. 

He watches her carefully, taking in her reaction. At first she’s stone-faced, waiting to process this before allowing herself to react -- but when she does, her face softens, her shoulders dropping, a sadness settling in. “...That was Anakin’s son?” She asks. 

Obi-Wan nods. “Yes. Owen and Beru were the last of Anakin’s family.” He exhales, shifting a little in his seat. “They’ll raise him. And I…” he trails off. He’ll  _ what? _ The plan was, originally, that he’d train Luke when he was ready. The plan was, originally, that Luke would be the one to stop Vader and bring back balance, that Luke would become something great. And then, not long after arriving, Owen decided against it, rightfully fearful that it would attract nothing but danger. Obi-Wan can’t blame him. Owen thinks  _ he  _ killed Anakin, and Obi-Wan doesn’t have the heart to correct him on his assumptions. Sometimes, Obi-Wan thinks the same thing. “I’ll watch over him. Keep him safe.”

“That’s why you’re here,” she summarises, her voice quiet.

“I’m sorry, Keeasi,” he says, frowning. “I didn’t want to lie to you, but--”

“You didn’t trust me?” She asks. “Because of the Empire?”

Obi-Wan quickly shakes his head. “No,” he insists. “Well, at very first, yes. But, Keeasi, knowing this is… we both have so many secrets,” Kenobi explains. “You carry so much already. Knowing about Luke means--”

“It means I know something about Vader that Palpatine doesn’t,” she finishes. “Something even Vader doesn’t know.”

“Exactly,” he says. 

She sits in silence for a while, thinking it over. He prepares himself for the worst, expecting her to grab her things and storm out. Instead, though, she smiles to herself. “You always did have a bit of a thing for being a martyr, didn’t you?” She chuckles. “I really couldn’t understand why you were here. I thought maybe you were punishing yourself, or hiding, and I thought that maybe I could…” she trails off. “I understand now. It’s ok,” she assures him. “I’ll be alright. I’ve kept big secrets before, remember?” Keeasi jokes. “What’s one more?”

He’s not convinced, however. Despite the smile she’s offering, the familiar weight of guilt starts to collect again. Anakin. Ahsoka. Padme. Satine. Siri. He’s failed every single one of them, and finally, someone he cares for manages to survive and he adds to their suffering. He should have sent her home. He shouldn’t have indulged. He loves her, but love is indulgence to a Jedi, isn’t it? 

No. That can’t possibly be right. He refuses to believe that anymore. 

He rises from his seat, moving to grab his cloak before making a beeline for the door. “Where are you going?” Keeasi asks, standing as if to follow. When he turns to face her, he can see she’s concerned -- upset, even.

“I need to meditate,” he explains, opening the door. He waits for her to argue, but she doesn’t, her posture relaxing. She’s, apparently, ok with this explanation, and takes her seat again, watching him as he leaves.

Maybe, he hopes, he’ll hear something back from Qui-Gon tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOME STRETCH, KIDS  
> how do you think it'll wind up? I want to hear your predictions.


	21. Meditation

_“I’m sorry I haven’t meditated in a while,”_ he thinks to himself, sitting outside in his ‘quiet spot,’ by a small fire he keeps there. It’s far enough for him to have the space he needs, but close enough to the house that he doesn’t need to worry about leaving things unattended. _“As I’m sure you’ve gathered, I’ve had an unexpected visitor. Keeasi. Although, come to think of it, I think you’d know her better as Keekee. The girl who snuck onto our ship all those years ago. I remember when you took me aside and said anyone willing to take such risk for a better life was clearly someone of potential, and you were right. We reconnected almost a decade later, and you were right -- she impressed me. She would have impressed you too, I believe._

_If she’d been force-sensitive, I suspect she’d have made it to the Council faster than I did. It’s almost a shame, really. She has all the other attributes of an excellent Jedi -- she’s outrageously intelligent, brave to the point of recklessness, and at times she’s so determined that it’s nearly frustrating. If only she hadn’t fallen into the Empire’s dands._

_But she did, didn’t she?_

_Once again, I’m overwhelmed by guilt. Sometimes, when I look at her, I can’t help but see their faces. Ahsoka, Anakin, Padme… but Satine and Siri, especially. All those I’ve cared for and loved have… well, I’ve failed them all. And while Keeasi is alive and healthy…_

_I abandoned her on Coruscant. She says she understands, but I still think I could have done more. I could have brought her with me to Mustafar. I could have gone back for her, or asked Senator Organa for help. I could have done something, and it’s occurred to me that I didn’t even try. I know that Luke is more important than my own wants and needs, I know how much depends on him, I know the importance of what I’m doing here -- but it doesn’t make knowing what I did to her any easier. I can’t help but wonder how everything would have turned out if I hadn’t left her behind. I wonder how different her presence could have made things._

_I know you’ve always disagreed with the Code’s view on these kinds of relationships, but I can see why romantic attachments are frowned upon. It’s distracting, to say the least. Although, honestly, ‘consuming’ might be a more appropriate word. At the same time, though, I can also understand your argument -- all I want to do is protect her and make her world safe. I feel like I’m a better version of me in her presence._

_I’ve spent so long thinking everyone I cared about was dead. Having her come back has been the most wonderful surprise since you lifted the lid on that supply container._

_I had a dream once, you know, that she’d joined me on Tatooine and we’d raised the twins ourselves. I felt nearly perverse when I woke up -- the idea of that was so foreign and forbidden to me that I felt awful just for dreaming it. Back then, I wouldn’t even let myself imagine it. And now? Day by day, I can feel my mind wandering to it more and more. I want to ask her to stay. She knows everything now, so she may as well. and I don’t even want to entertain the idea of her returning to the Empire. Not to mention that she’s been more than helpful._

_But, again, I feel as though that’s wrong to even entertain the idea. I’m in exile, aren’t I? I’ve spent my whole life content to give up that kind of life -- a partner, children, a family -- and it’s not right to decide I want it now. Not after all this time._

_But if she’s here with me, I can protect her, too. I can keep her safe from the Empire. I can try to make things right. That’s why I’m here in the first place, isn’t it? To make things right?_

_The Empire did something absolutely terrible. Horrific, even. You must understand -- the thought of her going back there after what they've subjected her to is..._

_Can I make things right? Owen still thinks I only attract trouble, and I’m inclined to believe him. More than ever at the moment. Bandits attacked the homestead again, in a group of 12 this time, one of the bigger groups I’ve seen. I tried to help them and the sight of me made him angry enough to get physical with me. It’s looking less and less like he’s ever going to change his mind and come around to allowing me to train Luke, and frankly, I’m starting to have my doubts. What if this is all for nothing? I feel like there’s never much progress here. Infact, I feel like I’m constantly taking steps backwards._

_I suppose I’m frustrated, really. I think there’s something to be said about how we’ve approached our emotions as an Order. Here I am, with nothing but my own thoughts and emotions, pushing back the negative with no one to seek council from, and I feel… lost. Totally lost. Maybe that’s part of why Keeasi here has been such a joy. I finally have someone to talk to._

_I think I’m going to ask her to stay. It may be foolish… but it’s what feels right. And it’s been a while since I’ve felt that.”_

He takes some time to stare into the distance, over the rolling dunes of sand and into the night, collecting himself. And then, as though he’s been given a push, inspiration hits and he immediately comes to his feet, throwing sand over the fire to extinguish it, before making his way back to the house with urgency. 

He opens the door, ready to just blurt out the question. “Keeasi, I--”

She’s sitting at his table, completely naked, offering him a very, _very_ specific kind of smile.

Without a word, Obi-Wan closes the door behind him and shrugs his cloak to the floor. 

Maybe it can wait until tomorrow. It doesn’t seem like she has any intention of leaving soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter! Next one is... possibly the last one. Oh my.
> 
> Sorry, but I won't be writing the sex scene in this part of the story. Maybe later as a stand alone if someone wants it bad enough, but I'm just not feeling up to writing it right now for some reason. I've got a fair bit going on irl and I'm not really vibing with describing a dicking down at the moment. 
> 
> Also, did I mention I have twitter? www.twitter.com/elizabethdanger come watch me angst


	22. Atonement

The shifting of her weight on the side of the bed wakes him. He’d lost complete control of his concept of time last night, but going by how he’s feeling, he couldn’t have gotten more than four or five hours sleep. He’s always thought himself fit, but she had seriously made him question it last night, his body thumping with all kinds of ache today. “Good morning,” Kenobi groans, rolling over and grazing the skin of her back with his fingertips.

“I didn’t think you’d be conscious for at  _ least _ a few more hours,” Keeasi laughs, reaching down to grab something. Some clothing. She pulls it over her chest and reaches back and -- ah. It’s her bra. 

“The table…” he trails off, unable to refrain from smiling. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Keeasi turns her head and raises an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you haven’t?” She asks.

“...Not with  _ you. _ ”

She rolls her eyes, leaning down again to collect her undershirt from the floor. “A bit wild for a Duchess.”

He rolls onto his back, stretching his arms upwards, resting his head against the pillow. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

She chuckles at this, shaking her head and looking around the room. “Have you seen my boots?” She asks. They had, admittedly, made a bit of a mess of the place. Now that they’d established this kind of relationship the first time, they were left to make up for lost time, and Keeasi absolutely went all in on expending nearly a decade of pent up sexual tension -- Kenobi was absolutely happy to oblige. 

“I think they got knocked over there,” Kenobi replies, sitting up a little on his elbows and pointing to a space by his kitchenette. He can’t help but watch her as she rises from the edge of the bed to collect them. Who knew he’d ever feel like a young Jedi Knight again? But as she returns to the bed to sit back down, he realises something. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Back to base,” she replies nonchalantly, pulling on one boot.

Obi-Wan sits up, staring at her in silence as she pulls on the other, feeling like the air has been sucked out of his chest, utterly confused. “What?” He asks. “I thought you have two weeks.”

“I do,” she replies with a short sigh. “But now that I know Luke is here, I can’t take any chances.”

He knows the tone she’s taking. He’s seen this before. The way she’s smiling in a way that doesn’t match her eyes, the short responses, the lilted tone, the unusually straight posture. He  _ knows _ her. “Keeasi,” he says, reaching out and gently placing his hand on her arm, a gesture for her to stop. “Stay.”

She raises her eyebrows in an apparent state of disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“Stay here, with me,” he continues. 

“I…” he’s able to catch it, the way her resolve slides a little and gives a glimpse of what she’s  _ actually _ feeling. “I can’t,” she says dismissively, throwing in an obviously false chuckle. “That’s impossible.”

He shakes his head, his hand sliding down her arm and coming to a rest on top of her hand. “It’s not,” he insists. “Keeasi, you can stay here with me. The bantha will more than provide for both of us.”

“The Empire--”

“We can make them think you’re dead,” he interrupts. “Or that you’ve joined the new Rebellion, or… something. You’ve played more dangerous hands than this, Keeasi. I know you can do it. I can help--”

“Obi-Wan,” she says, her voice stern, deliberately trying to cut off. The false veneer of carelessness is gone now. He can see the real feelings underneath, her expression gentle, like she’s mid apology. “I can’t do that.”

“Why?” He asks, a little frustrated. It’s all so simple. He can even ask Bail for help if he really needs to, he still has a safe channel, and even if it isn’t safe, Keeasi is more than intelligent enough to find a way. “I can protect you from the Empire, Keeasi.”

Her eyes fall, looking downwards as she takes his hand in hers and gives a squeeze. “It’s not me,” she says, the sadness now apparent. She’s been thinking this for a while, and he wonders how long. How is she so good at hiding these things? “It’s you and Luke.” He opens his mouth to argue, but she stops him again. “I have to protect you.”

“You can do that here.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “I can shoot a sniper rifle, but we both know where I’m most useful. If I go back to the Empire I can make sure that no one finds you here. I can keep passing on false leads. I can warn you.” Her jaw tenses a little. “If I don’t go back, someone else is going to take over my job -- and they’ll probably be a lot more forthcoming about their findings than I am.” She takes a deep breath before looking back to Obi-Wan, their eyes meeting. “I love you,” Keeasi brings her free hand to the side of his face, running her thumb ever-so-gently over his temple. “And I’m not going to let them win.”

She leans in and kisses him, Obi-Wan bringing his hands to cup her face, the two pressing their brows together long after the kiss has ended. “We could be what we want to be here.” It’s a lament -- he knows she’s right, but for the first time in a very long time, he wants her to be wrong so badly. 

“I know,” she replies, her voice almost a whisper. “But we have our roles to play. You do yours, and I’ll do mine.”

“And what about after?” He asks. “When Luke is old enough? I assume you can’t serve directly forever.”

She thinks this over as they pull away from each other, in silence, deep in thought. “I’ll wait for you,” she finally settles. “When this is over --  _ if _ it’s ever over -- we’ll meet somewhere.”

He nods. “Where?” He asks. “Not here.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Not here.” Keeasi gives it another moment of thought. “Alderaan,” she finally declares. “The tea plantations. Whoever is free to go first can go there, and… Can you use the Force to find me?” She asks.

He nods. “If I want to, yes.”

“Good,” she says with a gentle smile. “I’ll wait for you. I might be fifty years old and not as good looking,” she adds in an attempt at a joke, “but I’ll wait for you.”

He desperately wants to refuse. He wants her to stay there and argue with him until she’s too tired to leave. He wants to do whatever he can to stop her. But he knows Keeasi well enough to know that’s not possible. There’s no stopping her. There’s  _ never _ been. Qui-Gon Gin couldn’t stop her, Anakin couldn’t stop her, General Grievous couldn’t stop her, Palpatine -- despite coming close -- couldn’t even stop her. Obi-Wan has no hope of getting in her way when her mind is made up. He never has.

He kisses her again, not settling for one this time, a chain of kisses, pulling her towards him as though he thinks he can bring her back to bed and make her forget about this plan. He can feel her pulling him towards her, too, her fingers in his hair -- and then, as if exhausted, they just kind of… sag against each other, embracing, knowing it’s the last time in a long time. 

Obi-Wan smooths the back of her hair down with his hand, closing his eyes and knowing that this will be the last time he feels her face buried in the space between his neck and his shoulder for a long time. He won’t feel her heartbeat against his chest or catch the scent of her hair again until after Luke is grown up. He won’t get to tell her how much he loves her the way he wants -- which is at every given opportunity. 

“I love you,” she exhales.

“I love you too, Keeasi,” he replies. “So much. More than I can put into words.”

She gives him a minute to get out of bed and dress, seeing her off. She insists that he stays behind, not following her to Mos Eisley. If they’re spotted together, it’s all for nothing. She climbs on his speeder -- he can walk in and pick it up once she’s left -- and takes another deep breath. She’s holding back how she really feels right now, and he’s glad she does, because if she starts to cry he’ll pull her off the speeder and drag her back inside himself. “I’ll miss you,” she finally says. “Look after him, okay?”

He nods. “I will.”

She throws her cloth scarf over her head, wrapping it, but not covering her face just yet. 

“Keeasi?” He quickly asks. She turns her attention from the wrap to him. “The Force had something to do with this, you know.”

She shrugs, a little smile on her face. “I don’t know that, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Obi-Wan chuckles, always amused by her nonchalance when it comes to the very matter that binds them. “It means we’ll always be linked,” he explains. “We’ll always, in a way, be together.”

Keeasi grabs the loose end of her wrap, thinking on this. “...I like that,” she finally says. “I love you, Kenobi.”

“And I you.”

She takes a final look at him, visibly taking a deep breath of anticipation before throwing the remainder of the wrap over her face. Without another word, as though she’s in a rush, she faces forwards and kicks the speeder into gear. 

Obi-Wan watches as she fades into the Horizon, her silhouette against the harsh suns becoming smaller and smaller until it’s a dot. And then, he waits and watches some more, in the vain hope that he’ll see that dot again and it will turn into Keeasi Denn, the woman he loves and has loved for decades. 

When he’s satisfied that a fantasy is just a fantasy, he silently retreats back into the house, carefully closing the door behind him. He looks across his home. It was so filled with life when she was here, and perhaps he’s spoiled himself by coming home to her, the taste of normalcy enough to make his head rush with frustration that it’s gone. 

His hand reaches out, pulling his lightsaber to him. In a rare moment of anguish, he cries out in frustration and swings it at the small table by the doorway, breaking it to pieces, the small bric-a-brace clinking against the ground. 

* * *

Keeasi Denn has had a good run serving the Galactic Empire. 

At 50 years old, though, she’s had enough. Her mind is definitely all there -- she still runs rings around the younger intelligence operatives in that department -- but physically? Years of her brand of espionage have come back to haunt her. She’s fit and can still blast her way out of a firefight, but her hips are starting to hurt in both the mornings and evenings. Not to mention that all the ‘fun’ undercover jobs have been off the table for her for once she hit 35. 

It’s her heart that’s taken the most damage, though. She’s tried to keep it as together as she can, knowing that Obi-Wan and Luke’s safety rides on her ability to stay under the radar, but years of service to Darth Vader, Emperor Palpatine, and a cause that she doesn’t just refuse to believe in but  _ actively _ resents has taken its toll. The nightmares have gotten worse. They were always bad, but as time passed, they got more vivid. She tried getting married -- or, well, she was pushed into it, really, as a show of ‘moving’ on to really shake the scent of Obi-Wan off her. Her husband was a perfect match in the Empire’s mind -- one of her Inspector Generals, a perfect military record and an undying loyalty to the Empire. Another child followed the year after. A girl. Raised on Vardos like any good Imperial child with an even more unwavering loyalty to the Empire, who would go on to become an even more loyal soldier. 

It had all worked, though. As soon as she gave birth, the hour-long beratings -- or, more realistically, interrogations as Keeasi had come to recognise them -- stopped. She was free to continue her operations in peace. Her contribution to Imperial bloodlines had satisfied the Emperor, and he soon lost interest in her. 

Her husband, however, was very influential -- and when they moved into a messy divorce, questions about her ability to serve the Empire and her competency arose. Embittered by the divorce, her husband and daughter fell out of contact. It all culminated in Keeasi being honorably discharged. She jumped at the opportunity. She’d lost her usefulness to Palpatine, and she didn’t want to spend another second hearing about their new weapon.

And so, now, she settles in her little house by the tea plantation, relaxing on her lounge and watching the endless horizon of green and red tea bushes sway in the breeze. It’s so peaceful here. She’s excited by the idea of sharing it with Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan Kenobi. She smiles into her cup. That name… honestly, he seems like a dream, or like something she imagined to cope with the horrors of the Empire. She often finds her mind wandering to him now, especially that things are so peaceful. He’s always been there, though, in her thoughts, even at her lowest. Sometimes, when things are quiet, or she’s coming out of a pleasant dream that lingers even as she wakes, she swears she can  _ feel _ him. Not physically -- it’s hard for her to describe. It’s the same feeling she gets when he’s in the room, like everything around her changes in a way she can’t touch or smell or hear or see, but that she still knows is there. 

Surely Luke must be old enough, she thinks. However, she knows the reality of things: if he hasn’t met her here yet, it’s a good thing. It probably means Luke has been able to train with him. She can wait for him. He’ll come when Luke’s training is finished. She knows it. She has no evidence, but deep down in her bones she  _ knows _ it. Maybe he’ll bring Luke along when he finally does meet her here. Keeasi smiles at the thought. She wonders if he looks more like Anakin or Padme. It would be nice to see one of her old friend’s faces again, even if it’s in the face of their child.

As she does most afternoons, Keeasi takes a second to visualise it -- when that day finally comes and she can be with Obi-Wan again. It’s so peaceful here on Alderaan. Maybe he can finally rest. The quiet definitely wants her to. 

Just as her eyes flutter shut, the roar of thunder makes them snap open. Funny -- there’s been no sign of a storm. The air hasn’t taken on that damp quality at all today, not to mention that it’s the middle of summer. She gets up off the lounge and peers through the window. No rain either. How unusual. It must be a big storm if the thunder is able to make the ground shake all the way here.

Even more unusual -- the sky is turning red. 

* * *

The boy reminds him of Anakin. 

Not so much in looks -- no, he’s far more like his mother -- but his enthusiasm reminds him dearly of Anakin in his youth. Although, Obi-Wan must admit, he has observed a much greater amount of self control in Luke. Luke is naive, yes, and just as ready to run head-first into danger as his father was, but his optimism is… infectious. 

It was by chance Luke came to him, but as with everything, the Force finds a way to reconnect that which is lost. It’s quickly become obvious to Obi-Wan that he doesn’t need to lament the ‘wasted’ years the boy could have spent training. He’s leaps and bounds ahead of what Obi-Wan would expect of someone starting so late. Luke is 19, and while Obi-Wan was still a Padawan at his age, he’d had his whole life to train and practice. Luke is already catching up, and it’s only been mere days. 

They’re enroute to Alderaan. They’ll deliver his sister’s message, and then, he suspects, when the timing is right, Bail will tell him about his sister. Leia. Leading a Rebellion at 19 -- something only a child of Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala would have the gaul to do. He’s glad to see that where Anakin lives in the boy, Padme’s spirit is alive and well in her daughter. 

And then, perhaps, once Luke is on his way, he’ll visit the tea plantations. She’s there. Waiting for him. He knows it. He can feel it. That much, the Force has decided to reveal to him. 

Luke swings the lightsaber, barely missing the training sphere in front of him. He needs to ensure that Luke will fulfill his destiny above all else, he reminds himself, or else it is all for nothing. And then, perhaps, he can see her again.

It hits him like a kick to the stomach.

He all but doubles over, the Force so disrupted that it feels like it could rip through him. He stumbles to his seat, well aware that he’s caught the attention of a now visibly concerned Luke.

There has been a great disturbance in the Force. 

As if millions of voices have cried out in terror, and have suddenly been silenced.

* * *

_**END.** _

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day? Wow, go me.
> 
> This is it. It's over. Story is done. I finished it yay meeee.
> 
> Thank you all so much for sticking with me and your reviews and feedback. It's made such a difference to keeping up with myself. This story is one I started maybe like, 6 years ago, and I'm so happy I've finally gotten to publish and finish the thing.
> 
> I have some other projects coming up including an original fiction and more fanfiction in other fandoms, so follow me at twitter.com/elizabethdanger if that's your speed.
> 
> Thank you so so so much for enabling my reign of terror. <3


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